


where the sun always shines

by nykteris



Category: I.O.I (Band)
Genre: 60s thieves au, Alternate Universe - Thieves, F/F, set around 1965 ish? idk i'm bad with numbers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7375264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nykteris/pseuds/nykteris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She stole the thief's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where the sun always shines

**Author's Note:**

> **[EDIT ; 07/22/2017]** : this is eight days late but happy one year anniversary to my pride and joy, my crowning glory and my baby: this fic! as a little something to celebrate my most prized fic, i've decided to share the playlist i made for it here :) [click ~~clack badabing badaboom~~ here](https://open.spotify.com/user/nykteris/playlist/6f0ArLHyZfyRVjGJwCsdj4)~
> 
> ☆☆☆
> 
> this is, _by far_ , the longest and most grueling (stand-alone) fic i've ever written. this was very heavily inspired by the french films (new wave, 60s) that i've been watching and have grown really fond of, as well as other films outside of those.
> 
> this is also probably the most personal one to me because i started writing this when a recent problem arose in the family and i wanted to do something that would distract me from thinking so much about it, but that's a story for a different time.
> 
> title is from '[good together](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YH3ArVgkw6I/)' by honne.

**prologue**

  
  
  
  


Im Nayoung places case folder in front of Ki Heehyun. It's a thick folder, filled with papers and clippings that are sticking out at the sides. Heehyun stares at it silently; when Eunjin told her that Nayoung had called her to her office, Eunjin never mentioned what she was being called for and she doubts Nayoung would ever tell Eunjin why either. She looks up from the folder and at Nayoung, finally asks, "What is this?"

"Find out for yourself." Nayoung motions to the folder when Heehyun stares at her blankly. "Go ahead, open it."

Heehyun takes the folder in her hands, holding it gingerly. She glances at Nayoung one last time — Nayoung watches her with an even expression — and opens the folder. The first thing that greets her is a picture that's clipped onto the folder's contents. She feels her chest tighten and she clenches her jaw. Heehyun looks up at Nayoung again, searching her face for something, _anything_ , but Nayoung's always been a tough one to crack. Her face betrays no emotions. " _What is this?_ " Heehyun asks again.

"Don't tell me you don't know her," Nayoung replies in a monotonous voice. "Kim Sejeong."

"Yeah, I know her. Childhood friend. Haven't seen her in a couple of years, not since graduation," Heehyun lies by the skin of her teeth. The last bit is a lie — she _has_ seen Sejeong and she keeps tabs on where her friend is. She flips through the papers inside the folder: different news clippings and reports, pictures of an unknowing Sejeong, more and more files. She reins in her nerves, wills her heart to stop beating so wild and loud. "What I don't know is why you called me here to, what, reminisce?"

Nayoung's lip twitches. "You're aware of what she does, yes?"

"Yes."

"You know she's a wanted criminal in several states."

"Yes."

"Were you telling the truth when you said you haven't seen her _at all_ since graduation?"

Heehyun hesitates to answer but Nayoung just nods, her face still stony. She's gotten the answer she needs just from Heehyun's silence, a miscalculation on Heehyun's part. Nayoung says, "I thought so."

Nayoung sits down opposite Heehyun, folding her hands on her desk. The heavy gaze of her eyes are locked onto Heehyun when she says, "We could use someone like her. I'm sure you've thought the same thing. She's got valuable skills, she's intelligent , she's... _malleable_ , so to speak."

Heehyun halfheartedly scoffs. "So that's why you called me here — to recruit her like we're in the _girl scouts_ or something."

Nayoung actually smiles a bit at that, but her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "We've been assigned a task, Heehyun, and we've sent all of our best agents but none of them have ever come back successful." She leans back into her chair and chuckles softly. "I've pondered over this a lot, lost sleep over it, even. I asked myself what was wrong with the equation, because we have the best tacticians and all of our agents are brilliant individually. So I asked myself again and again what was wrong, where we were going wrong."

"I'm not a huge fan of suspense, Im," Heehyun deadpans. "What magical realization did you have?"

"It's simple," Nayoung says. "None of those people we sent are very good at stealing things."

Heehyun actually bursts out laughing at that and she's given the satisfaction of watching Nayoung's face settle into an irritated expression. It isn't very easy to irritate Nayoung, or at least to get her to actually show she's irritated, but Heehyun is just one of the few people who have the ability to do it. She doesn't know why she laughed, but it doesn't really matter now. " _Girl scouts_. I knew it."

Nayoung sets her jaw and says, "We need a _thief_ to do a thief's job."

"What makes Sejeong so special to you? Why not just get some other person to do this? Our database is full of options."

"Because we need the best one to pull off what could possibly be one of the biggest heists in history," Nayoung answers simply and calmly. "Quite frankly, Ms. Kim is the most well-decorated and most impressive one out there right now."

Heehyun crosses her arms over her chest. "What makes you think she'll agree to help us? I've tried to get her to turn her back on this so many times, tried to convince her to join us — join _me_ — but clearly none of that's worked. What makes you think this time will be any different?

Nayoung doesn't answer her question. Instead, she gets up from her chair and eases out the creases and folds on her clothes. "The next time I see you, I want you to have Kim Sejeong with you. I don't care how you do it — _I want Kim Sejeong_." She places her hands on her waist, cocks a brow. "Understood, Agent Ki?"

Heehyun groans. There's no getting out of this now. "Understood."

  
  
  
  


**part one**

  
  
  
  


“ _Signora, signora!_ ” Sejeong waves over the woman manning the stall full to the brim with flowers of all colors, shapes and sizes. The woman looks up from her newspaper and Sejeong flashes her a smile; instantly, the corners of the woman’s eyes crinkle as she smiles back. “ _Mi scusi_. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“No, no, of course not!” the woman replies, laughing heartily. Like everyone else, she has sun-kissed skin, a beautiful glow. Sejeong’s own skin has been kissed by the Italian sun in her prolonged stay. “What can I help you with?”

Sejeong pushes up the sleeves of her cotton shirt, wiping away a bead of sweat that rolls down her temple. She feels the full weight of the sun on the back of her neck. “Do you see that girl sitting over there, _signora_?” She points to across the street at a cafe, points to Somi. Her wristwatch winks up — it’s one of her favorite steals, taken from some poor businessman, though she doubts he’ll be running out of pretty watches any time soon. She had quick hands, sticky fingers and an insatiable taste for pretty (and expensive) things. “That girl over there, the one sipping an espresso.”

The woman squints and says _ah_ when she finally follows where Sejeong is pointing. She nods, says, “A pretty one, that one.”

Sejeong smiles proudly. “Yes, isn’t she? I was thinking of surprising her with flowers, but I haven’t got a clue about them.”

“Ah, young love,” the woman coos, chuckling to herself. The woman looks at Somi again, taps her chin and her hands go flying — it’s an interesting scenario to watch: the woman picks flower after flower, all with hues of pinks and purples, humming as she works to prepare them into a proper bouquet. When she’s done, she hums in approval and hands the flowers to Sejeong. “For your lovely girl.”

Sejeong inspects it and nods. She pulls out her wallet and hands the woman fifty _liras_ . “This is perfect, _signora_ . _Grazie_.”

The woman looks at the bill in surprise. “Oh, it doesn’t cost that much!”

“It’s fine,” Sejeong replies with a laugh. “A little extra won’t hurt anybody.”

The woman thanks her, happily pocketing the bill and remarks, “Your Italian is very good, by the way.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Sejeong replies simply and bids the woman goodbye.

She cradles the bouquet on her left arm as she crosses the street. She walks up behind Somi, who is now immersed in some magazine, brows furrowed in concentration. Slowly, she approaches Somi and lightly places her free hand on the younger girl’s shoulder; Somi turns around instinctively and Sejeong dips her head to plant a kiss on Somi’s cheek. Somi’s face creases into a smile.

Sejeong sits down across Somi and hands her the bouquet of flowers. “What do you think?” she asks, slipping out of Italian to Korean easily.

“These are lovely.” Somi inhales a whiff of the flowers and hums appreciatively. “Where’d you get them?”

“Right there, across the road. There are a bunch of stalls there, kind of cramped, but a gold mine nonetheless.”

“I didn’t know you had an eye for flowers.”

Sejeong signals for the waiter to come over. “Sadly, I can’t take credit for that. The woman who assisted me is to thank.”

Somi places her hand over Sejeong’s on the table, eyes dancing. “They’re lovely. Thank you.”

The corner of Sejeong’s lip quirks up in response, until her eye catches something way behind Somi. Somi catches the spark in Sejeong’s eyes and snickers. “Five hundred _liras_ says you can’t steal that golden chunk of a necklace from that woman over there.”

“ _Five hundred?_ ”

“I’ll make it double if you can snatch some more stuff other than the necklace.”

“You underestimate me,” Somi retorts, pulling her hand away from Sejeong’s. She turns to look at the woman in question. “Won’t take me longer than five, ten minutes to get that.”

“It’s a bet, then.”

“I hope you handle defeat well,” Somi teases and leans forward to peck Sejeong on the lips.

  
  


Somi comes back triumphantly with the necklace and a few more items in hand. Sejeong hands her a thousand _liras_ with a huff.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They meet in Taormina.

Somi immediately catches Sejeong’s full attention. There aren’t many other Koreans aside from herself, so Sejeong is glad to find someone she can speak in her mother tongue with. With Somi comes the feelings of nostalgia, of missing the heat and acidity of Korean food and soju, of missing cherry blossoms, of missing her mother and brother who she left back in Korea (they write her letters — she doesn’t reply, never replies).

They stay in the same hotel. Sejeong spots her at the lobby when she checks in — long hair pulled up into a neat ponytail, her cream white dress hugging the curves of her body, a curiously small amount of luggage in tow. _She’s pretty_ , Sejeong thinks, her eyes following the shape of Somi’s lips.

It isn’t until evening when Sejeong approaches her. They have dinner, along with everyone else in the hotel, in the massive dining area. Like every other night, the room is abuzz with laughter and waiters running to-and-fro with high piles of plates in tow. Somi sits a few tables away from hers and Sejeong watches her idly, noting the curious looks the guests give her — they are the same looks she gets, until she opens her mouth and speaks Italian fluently then everyone eases up.

They finish dinner at roughly the same time and Sejeong follows her to the hotel’s bar. The perpetual cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke that surrounds the room makes her eyes sting, and she can already feel the smell of the smoke clinging onto her clothes and her skin. She had never fully picked up the habit of smoking, but every time she did light a few, it was never pleasant. Somi settles herself on one of the stools at the bar and Sejeong silently takes up the empty seat right beside her.

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” Somi asks suddenly, chin nested in her palm. She says this in Italian, however, which takes Sejeong aback. “Or would you prefer to just creep silently like you have been the whole day?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to speak Korean,” Sejeong replies with a grimace.

Somi laughs and finally says in Korean, “I’m just messing with you.”

“Thank God,” Sejeong says, also in Korean. It feels strange to speak it again after having to throw it in the back burner for so long. “There aren’t a whole lot of people I can converse with in Korean here, though I guess that’s pretty obvious already.”

Somi nods. “I haven’t met many other Koreans in my travels either, so this comes as a welcomed surprise.”

Sejeong offers her hand to Somi. “I’m Sejeong, by the way.”

“I’m Somi.” They shake hands.

They each order drinks and when the bartender places their orders in front of them, Sejeong asks, “What brings you here?”

“Boredom, I suppose.”

“That’s an interesting answer.”

“How about you?”

“I got bored with Morocco, so I wound up here.”

“So boredom, basically.”

Sejeong offers a small smile. “Well, my job there was done so I figured I’d go give Italy a taste.”

“Were you there for business, then?”

“I suppose you could say that, yes.” _If breaking into a prince’s summer villa to steal some valuable paintings to sell to the blackmarket counts as ‘business’_ , she thinks to herself, _then yes_.

“That’s an interesting answer,” Somi echoes, a smile playing on her lips. Sejeong supposes that Somi’s lips taste like sugar and like the whiskey she’s drinking now.

“I have an interesting...occupation.” Sejeong finishes her drink.

Somi pushes her drink away and leans in closer to Sejeong, a hand on her knee. “What might this occupation be, if I may ask?”

“It’s quite a long story,” Sejeong says, aware of how her voice pitches lower into a whisper.

Somi taps her fingers on Sejeong’s knee. “I’ve got all night.”

  


-

  


“What makes you think I’m going to allow you to just tag along with me?” Sejeong asks. There’s no sting in her voice but it _is_ laced with disbelief. Jeon Somi, who she hardly knew, wanted to tag along with her on a heist she’s been planning for a while now. Sure, maybe she could put the blame on herself for this one: she had told Somi about what she does, which is obviously a big no-no. Maybe it was the alcohol in her system or maybe it was the way Somi held her gaze throughout the entire conversation, but neither could ever be valid reasons to tell a complete stranger that you’re, well, a criminal.

Somi shrugs and throws her a lazy smile. “Because I’m amazing company to have around.”

“There is a huge difference between chatting over drinks and committing theft, Somi,” Sejeong says. “Besides, you know absolutely nothing about the plan, and what do you even know about the trade?”

“So then explain everything to me,” Somi retorts. “I’m a fast learner and I won’t get in your way too much, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Sejeong tries to keep her resolve firm, tries to resist the temptation to just say yes to Somi, tries not to get too distracted by how good Somi looks because it just makes her want to say yes more. But it’s the earnest and willing look on Somi’s face and the sparkle in Somi’s eyes that finally make Sejeong waver and give in. “Fine, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but: surprise me, Jeon Somi.”

  
  


When Sejeong asked Somi to surprised her, she seriously was not expecting _this_.

“Care to explain to me how you know how to break into maximum security and state-of-the-art mega vaults?” Sejeong asks, her arms crossed over her chest. Not that she isn’t impressed, because she is — she’s _very_ impressed. And there’s something extremely attractive and even sexy about it, though she isn’t going to admit that to Somi (yet).

Somi takes three steps back as the vault’s gigantic metal door swings open. She places her hands on her hips as her lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “I’m young and I’ve got a lot of spare time. I’ve obviously got to do something with said spare time.”

Sejeong walks up beside her and snorts. “So you do _this_ in your spare time.”

“You’re hardly the right person to lay judgement on me,” Somi retorts, but she sounds more amused than offended. “You’re a thief and a con artist. I’m sure you do far crazier things in _your_ spare time.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Sejeong mumbles in defeat.

“Besides, it’s as the saying goes,” Somi continues, excitedly stepping inside the vault. She fixes her leather gloves and looks at Sejeong over her shoulder. “Birds of the same feather flock together.”

Sejeong only stares at her, still a little in disbelief. When she doesn’t budge, Somi says impatiently, “Well, come on, now. You can’t expect me to carry all of this stuff out by myself!”

  
  


An alarm goes off in the distance, loud and shrill and painful to the ears — they drive off in a 1964 Peugeot 404 that they found in the rich man’s garage, the backseat and trunk filled with their loot.

“See,” Somi remarks, lightly punching Sejeong’s arm, “we make a great team!”

Sejeong grins at her and says, “You’re not bad, Somi. Not bad at all.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sejeong is used to working alone. It isn’t because she’s a lone wolf — those broody types she’d seen in a number of movies, signature smolder plastered on their faces and a cigarette always dangling on their lips. She’s just never been acquainted with anyone else who does what she does (or can do what she can do), not until she meets Somi, anyway.

If it hadn’t been for the different paths they chose, Sejeong thinks that maybe Heehyun would have been her partner in crime like they always used to be when they were kids. But that’s a thought for some other time.

  


-

  


Sejeong briefs her on her usual routines, such as scouting out the area and memorizing when they're open for business and when they close for the day, knowing everything — and she means _everything_ — that happens on a daily basis in the area, like what time the mail truck passes by or when the police make their rounds. She teaches Somi that it's also important to take observe and take note of what time of the day it's the busiest and what time of the day it isn't. She shows Somi some of her notes from previous operations

"Most important of all," Sejeong tells her, "There can be no room for error whatsoever. One tiny miscalculation is all it takes to mess everything up and that's the last thing we want." She looks up from the rather battered pocket-sized notebook she'd been showing Somi only to find the younger girl staring at her, her chin cradled in her hand. Her lips are slightly parted and there's a certain kind of intensity and affection (was it affection?) in her eyes that makes Sejeong's heart do foxtrots. Sejeong clears her throat and asks, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Somi bats her lashes. "Like what?"

"Like..." Sejeong waves her hands around. "You know, like _that_."

"I have no idea what _that_ " — she mimics the hand gestures Sejeong was making — "means."

Sejeong is about to further explain what she means when she realizes that Somi is probably just poking fun at her. Her face heats up and she drops the topic of whatever _that_ means entirely. Somi smiles, clearly satisfied with herself, but she's still looking at Sejeong like _that_ (Sejeong swears she's going to hate the word 'that' after this). "Please tell me you were listening earlier, because it would be a pain in the ass to have to repeat everything I just said."

Somi waves her hand dismissively. “You have nothing to worry about, partner dearest.”

“Somi, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Sejeong.”

Sejeong purses her lips. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it. But remember: no room for error.”

“Noted. Now when does the fun start?”

  
  


Somi had been right to ask when the ‘fun’ would start because most of their days before actually pulling off the deed is spent doing all the things Sejeong had said. Most evenings are spent holed up in their room with Sejeong scribbling things here and there and studying blueprints and other important things all night long. Though this entire ordeal is one of the most crucial parts of any well-conceived heist or robbery, it’s also one of the most boring. Somi is very verbal about her disdain. Sejeong ignores her complaints, which only seems to add more to Somi’s frustration.

“Are we going to sit here forever or will we actually do something?” Somi asks impatiently. She’s sitting on the other end of the couch that’s big enough just for the two of them, hands wrapped around a now lukewarm mug of tea.

Sejeong doesn’t look up from the alarm blueprint she’s busied herself with. She can’t quite find the glitch in it, the one thing that’ll stop it from going off. It’s one of the latest models and from its reputation, a very reliable one. Just the slightest vibrations or the softest of thuds could throw it into a fit of ear-piercing wailing. Definitely not what they want.  She chews on the cap of her marker, face creased into a scowl.

With an irritated sigh, Somi puts her mug down on the floor and scoots closer to Sejeong. Sejeong takes no notice of it, so Somi practically throws herself on top of Sejeong, stretched out on her lap like a cat. Sejeong drops her marker and the blueprint is crumpled beneath the weight of Somi. “Somi,” Sejeong says, her voice stern.

“Sejeong,” Somi retorts, looking up at her stubbornly.

Sejeong heaves a sigh. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Getting you to pay attention to me.”

“I’m busy. Or I _was_ , until you went ahead and threw yourself at me.”

Somi pouts at Sejeong, her lower lip sticking out childishly and her cheeks puffed. It has its intended effect because Sejeong can’t get herself to scold Somi when she looks like a kicked puppy. That would be too evil. “What is it this time, Somi?”

“I’m bored,” Somi drawls, extending the ‘o’ sound as much as she can. “We’ve been sitting here for far too long. I’ve got every shop here memorized and I’ve got almost everyone’s faces memorized too. You know that. So why aren’t we doing _anything_?”

Sejeong chuckles at that. Somi is so stubborn and so impatient, especially, and it’s one of those moments when their age difference comes into play. Sejeong had been like that — as all kids are — so she couldn’t really blame Somi. Plus, age aside, that’s really just how Somi is as a person, apparently. She pats Somi’s head, says, “ _Patience_ , Somi.”

Somi frowns and she probably means to look intimidating, something along the lines of _stop patting me on the head like I’m a pup_ , but Sejeong just finds it endearing. “ _Hmph_. Fine,” she mumbles. As she moves to get up, she takes notice of the blueprint and fishes it out from under her body. Sejeong watches her silently go over it and read the scribbles Sejeong had made, then she holds out her hand and says, “Marker.”

“The marker is on the floor and you’ve put your entire body on my lap,” Sejeong replies. “I don’t have a wide range of motion I can do given my position, you know.”

“Must I do everything?” Somi reaches for the marker and starts jotting down her own notes on the blueprint, circling certain things. When she’s done, she gets up from her position and hands the marker and blueprint back to Sejeong. She picks up her mug from the floor and goes to the kitchen to pour out the cold tea. Over her shoulder, she says, “You’re welcome!”

Sejeong reads the notes Somi had written and — “I’ll be damned” — she mentally kicks herself for not figuring this out much sooner. Somi is a lot of things, and _brilliant_ is one of those.

  
  


A bead of sweat is trickling down the side of Sejeong’s temple when she looks up to find Somi starting at her. Again. Like _that_ . Hammer and chisel in hand, Sejeong asks, “Why are you staring at me like _that_ again?” When Somi doesn’t answer, she adds, “If there’s something on my face, you should just tell me because I’m starting to feel a little self-conscious with you staring at me like that. Makes it hard to work.”

Somi’s lips curl into a smile. “You’re really pretty.”

Sejeong feels her entire face heat up and she nearly drops the tools in her hands through the hole she’d spent almost three hours working on. Her arms and shoulders are aching like hell and now she could barely hold herself together just because Somi called her _pretty_. She clears her throat and half-heartedly jokes, “Even when I look like this — all sweaty, and tired, and covered with dust?”

Somi tilts her head a bit, as if she were actually giving it some thought. Then she says, “It adds to the appeal.”

Sejeong has no idea how to react to that so she busies herself again with creating a hole on the floor that opens directly into the room right below, big enough for the two of them. All the while, she feels the whole weight of Somi’s gaze on her and she becomes more clumsy with her work. Her face is still flushed from Somi’s sudden and random compliment and her skin is slick with sweat when finally, the hole in the wall is just the right size. Somi takes this as the cue to drop in the ladder in and she whispers, “I’ll handle this.”

Sejeong moves aside, propping herself up in her elbows, and watches Somi make the descent. Somi looks up at her from the room below and Sejeong says, “We’ve got roughly two hours left to wrap this up.”

Somi smirks. “I can do it in less.”

Sejeong scoffs but she doesn’t doubt the younger girl. She gets up and pats away all the dust on her skin and clothes. She pulls out the bottle of wine Somi had packed (“In case we have a thirst,” she said, “Which for a fact I know we will”) and pops the cork off, takes a sip straight from the bottle. She plops down tiredly on one of the chairs by the window. As she looks down at her watch, her mind wanders to the thought of taking a nice and long shower to rid herself of all the grime and sweat. _That would be really nice right now_.

Somi’s words ring in her ears. _You’re really pretty_. Something about the way she said it and the way she was looking at Sejeong makes Sejeong blush like a giddy teenager and it’s all she can think about even after they’ve gotten what they came for — “Told you I could get it in less,” Somi beams proudly — and crash the moment they arrive back to their stake-out place. So much for that nice and long bath Sejeong wanted.

  
  


They pack their things, ready to move to wherever the wind takes them (read: wherever the next big catch is, so to speak). Somi goes down to load her trunk into the back of the car — a sleek, black convertible, Somi’s first car steal (“Nice taste,” Sejeong comments, impressed) — while Sejeong finishes packing her things and making sure they leave nothing incriminating or telling behind. When her scan of the room is finished, she continues with her luggage.

As always, her clothes are neatly folded and packed; she never really brings too much, always just enough and she only really kept her favorite pieces. She quirks her lips when she finds that her clothes aren’t fitting perfectly so she pulls down all out again to fix again. The last item she pulls out is a stack of letters tied together with a string; it’s a sizeable amount, a little heavy in her hands. She looks at it with a heavy heart but puts it aside before temptation gets the best of her and she opens it.

Sejeong finishes packing her things and when all their stuff is loaded at the trunk and backseat of the car, they leave.

  


-

  


The more time they spend together, the more Sejeong learns about Somi. Perhaps one of the strangest things of all is Somi’s disturbing love for gummy bears. Sejeong thought the gummy candies were okay, not really a huge fan of them, but Somi? Somi was in a league of her own entirely.

Sejeong had come to find out of this when they stopped by a gas station and Somi made a beeline for the convenience shop. She came out five minutes later with packs upon packs of Haribo gummy bears cradled in her arms and a face-splitting grin on her face. All Sejeong could do was stare. “I didn’t know you liked gummy bears that much,” she says to Somi.

Somi shrugs. “I love _Gummibärchen._ ”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“ _Gummibärchen_ ,” Somi repeats with a frown. “That’s the original German term.”

Sejeong blinks a few times. “You could just say ‘gummy bears’, Somi. They mean the same thing anyway but this is much easier to say.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t have the same ring to it! And I have utmost respect for Haribo and its craft, so I honor the original term they coined.”

Sejeong smiles despite herself. “That’s cute, but really unnecessary.”

“You would feel the same if you appreciated them more!” Somi rips open a pack and picks a handful of colorful, fruit-flavored gummy bears. She holds her hand out in front of Sejeong and says, “Say _ahh_.”

Sejeong complies and opens her mouth. Somi pops the gummy bears in and Sejeong chews on them, and there is an explosion of sugar and fruitiness in her mouth. Somi looks at her expectantly, as if she were waiting for Sejeong to have some life-changing revelation thanks to gummy candies shaped into tiny bears. Sejeong decides to humor her a bit. “They taste good,” she says. “Much better than I remember.”

Somi nods, apparently satisfied enough with Sejeong’s answer, and pops a few of the gummy bears into her mouth. She chews away at them happily, tearing through pack after pack throughout the rest of the car ride. Somi feeds Sejeong some while she drives, and though Sejeong doubts eating _this_ much gummy bears holds any health benefits at all, she doesn’t mind being fed by Somi and she doesn’t mind how Somi goes on and on about them.

  
  


Sejeong can feel the entire weight of the sun on her skin and it’s become unbearable. Worst of all, she’s really starting to crave —

“Popsicles?” Somi asks lazily. Her eyes are half-lidded, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of her neck. “That honestly doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”

They sit on the hood of the car later, popsicles in hand. Somi’s is reddish pink and Sejeong’s is bright yellow. They hum appreciatively when their tongues skate over the cool, fruity relief and frozen goodness of the popsicles. Somi takes out the popsicle from her mouth with a pop of her lips, asks, “What flavor did you get?”

“Lemon,” Sejeong answers. “You?”

“Strawberry. Or orange. Maybe a mix of both? I honestly don’t know.”

Wordlessly, they criss-cross their arms, holding out their respective popsicles in front of the other. They get a taste each, simultaneously say “I like yours better” and laugh. They buy a handful of popsicles — all sorts of flavors they can get their hands on — after, much to the surprise and delight of the vendor and by the end of it, Sejeong’s mouth is burning from all the sugar and Somi’s lips are painted an orangey red hue.

  


-

  


Sometimes Somi asks her about her travels, about the places she’s been and the people she’s met.

“Ever been to Russia?” Somi asks her once, her mouth half-full with Haribo _Gummibärchen_.

Sejeong cocks a brow at her. She flips a page of the newspaper she’s reading. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Somi replies with a shrug. She pulls out another pack of Haribo Goldbears from her bag and Sejeong wonders just how many packs of it Somi can consume before her jaws go sore. “I’ve never been there, though I’d really like to.”

Sejeong’s lip quirks up into a minuscule smile. “What’s so great about it to you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Somi says. She rests her chin on her hands. “I just want to see what it’s like there, what it’s really like. I remember poring over history books as a child and I was always so fascinated by Russia and its monarchy.”

Sejeong hums noncommittally.

“I assumed you’ve probably been there already, maybe more than once.”

“I’ve only been there once.”

“What was it like?”

“Cold, and stark white as far as the eye can see. I’d really rather not go back.”

Somi frowns. “But why not?”

Sejeong neatly folds the newspaper and places it on the coffee table. She takes a sip of her coffee, grimacing when she finds that it’s gone cold from being untouched. Placing the cup back down on the table, she turns to Somi and says, “The last time I was there, a KGB operative nearly put a bullet through my head.” Somi drops the topic of Russia after hearing that.

The next day, she asks about Morocco. “Was it anything like _Casablanca_ ? Did you go to _actual_ Casablanca?”

“How disappointed would you be if I told you it’s only half of what _Casablanca_ made it look like?” Sejeong asks her, playing around a little with Somi’s over-enthusiasm. It’s adorable, really. Something about Somi’s childlike enthusiasm and curiosity warms Sejeong’s heart. She laughs when Somi looks crestfallen and says, “I’m just messing with you! I mean, _Casablanca_ was filmed in a Hollywood set so it was close to perfect, at least cinematically, but Morocco, and the real Casablanca, were great nonetheless. I felt like Humphrey Bogart, honestly. It was a great feeling, made me feel really suave and cool.”

Somi’s face lights up again and she’s got the biggest smile on her face as she asks Sejeong to tell her more about her time there, about the prince she’d robbed right under his nose, and she stares at Sejeong with so much awe and a dreamy gleam in her eyes. Sejeong observes the same thing over and over again in all of their conversations about the places she’d been — Somi would always look at her with that dreamy expression on her face, _always_. So she asks, accompanied by the vague waving of her hands, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Somi just mimics her vague waving of hands and Sejeong gives up on it entirely.

  


-

  


Sejeong wakes up to Somi shaking her shoulder. She peers up at the younger girl with sleepy eyes and exclaims, “Jesus Christ, what time is it?”

Somi glances at the clock on the bedside table and says, “Just a little past three o’clock in the morning.” Then, “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

“Why? You have your own bed.” Sejeong props herself up on her elbows and does her best to try to convey her confusion but she probably looks like she’s just about to pass out again.

“Please, Sejeong?” She stares down at Sejeong with her puppy dog eyes and really, it’s unfair how well it works on Sejeong because she lets her get away with almost anything as long as Somi pouted at her or gave her the puppy eyes. “Just this once?”

Sejeong moves aside to make space for Somi on her bed, pats the empty spot and says, “Well, come on now.” The sheets rustle as Somi slides into bed with Sejeong, pulling up the blanket to her chin. They lie in bed facing each other, staring at each other. Sejeong’s eyes are still hazy with sleep but she can see the freckles that spread across Somi’s face, can see the perfect slope of her nose and the shape of her lips. Her voice is still scratchy from sleep when she asks, “Is something bothering you, Somi?”

Somi averts her eyes, pulling the blanket around her shoulders some more. “I’m just a little homesick, I guess. Haven’t felt it in a while.”

“I get that,” Sejeong says. “I know what that feels like.”

Somi looks back up at her. “What do you miss most about home?”

“My family,” Sejeong answers immediately. “My mother and my brother. I miss our neighbourhood a bit, too. I miss the cherry blossoms, the food, the familiarity of everything.”

“What do you do when you feel homesick?”

“Nothing, really. I will myself to stop thinking too much about it or else it’ll be all I’ll think about and it’ll eat at me for a long time.”

“Do you keep in touch with your family?”

Sejeong pauses before answering. “No, I don’t.”

Somi nods. No questions asked. Somi has got to be one of the strangest people Sejeong’s ever met, but she appreciates that about her nonetheless. She scoots closer to Sejeong and buries her face in the crook of her neck; Sejeong wraps her arms around Somi’s waist instinctively, pulling her in closer. “Good night, Sejeong,” Somi whispers against her skin.

“Good night, Somi.”

  
  


As it turns out, Somi doesn’t end up sleeping in Sejeong’s bed just once. It becomes a regular thing for them and Sejeong could never shoo away Somi even if she tried. In the end, it becomes a mutual understanding between them that Somi is allowed to sleep in Sejeong’s bed as much as she wants even if she has a perfectly fine bed to herself.

In all honesty, Sejeong doesn’t mind. She doesn’t mind having Somi sleeping beside her because she welcomes the feeling of the warmth the younger girl radiates, likes the feeling of being wrapped in her embrace, likes the steady beating of her heart. Sejeong always woke up ahead of Somi, so she was always treated to watching Somi sleep so peacefully and looking even younger than she already is. She feels her heart overflow with affection for the younger girl every time.

She could get used to this.

  
  


Sejeong is used to their little arrangement. She no longer bats an an eyelash when Somi squeezes herself into bed beside her, nor does the flinch when she feels Somi’s arms wrap around her waist out of the blue. That much she’s used to. What she _isn’t_ used to is this.

It’s the same set-up when she wakes up: Somi still has an arm slung over her body and Sejeong still has to worm her way out of it. She ends up pulling the blanket off of Somi a bit and she nearly has a heart attack — Somi’s night dress is bunched up high around her thighs, exposing most of her thighs and her long, smooth legs; the strap of the night dress has also gone askew, drooping down her shoulder. Sejeong’s breath hitches at her throat when she lets her eyes skate over the smooth and soft expanse of Somi’s legs. _Fuck_ , Sejeong thinks. _She looks so soft to the touch, I wonder what she’d look like —_ _no, oh my God, stop thinking these things!_ She wills away the pool of arousal she feels in the pit of her stomach, jumps out of bed and heads out to the balcony for some cool air. When she’s calmed herself down ( _stop thinking of it, stop thinking of it, stop thinking of it_ ) she quickly walks into the bathroom and lets the cold water running from the shower distract her.

Breakfast later is an awkward state of affairs because Somi is absolutely clueless and Sejeong is still a blushing and fumbling mess. Somi finally asks her, “Are you okay? You’ve been jittery all morning.”

Sejeong lets out a squeak of a laugh and says, “Never been better!” If Somi doubts her (and Sejeong is positive that she does, God, she does) she doesn’t say anything and focuses on finishing her breakfast instead. Sejeong forces herself to do the same. _Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it_.

  


-

  


Once Sejeong gets over her embarrassment (she reasons with herself that she only reacted the way she did because she hasn’t been with anyone in so long and having a really devastatingly attractive girl in bed with her is all it takes to get her off, and really, it’s as pathetic as it sounds) things go back to normal. They go about their routine as usual to a mechanical precision and perfection, but the night of their heist, Sejeong notices something wrong.

She presses her hand to Somi’s forehead and yanks it back almost instantly with a yelp. “Holy shit, Somi. You’re burning up.”

Somi makes a face at her and mumbles something but she’s too weak to make it sting the way she might want to. Somi groans and says, “I’ll be fine. We can continue with tonight. I’ll be fine.”

Sejeong purses her lips. Firmly, she says, “No, we’re calling it off.”

“What?!” Somi stares at her in horror. “But we’ve been preparing for this and I told you, I’m fine! Stop worrying about me, I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“No.” Somi gives her the puppy eyes but it doesn’t work this time (thank God for that). “We’re calling it off and you’re going to get some rest. You need it.”

Somi looks like she’s about to put up a fight with Sejeong but she gives in eventually. She holds her arms out and says, “Carry me to bed. Like a princess.” When Sejeong just looks at her in surprise, she whines, “ _Sejeong_.”

Sejeong bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling. Effortlessly, she scoops Somi into her arms _—_ Somi squeals in delight and in surprise, remarks, “ _Wow_ , you’re strong” _—_ and princess-carries her to the bed (Sejeong’s, because whichever bed is Sejeong’s now is automatically Somi’s too, spare bed be damned) and pulls up the blanket around Somi’s shoulders. “Happy, princess?”

Somi giggles, like a schoolgirl. “You should call me that more often. I like it.”

Sejeong brushes aside Somi’s bangs from her eyes and chuckles to herself. _It’s definitely her fever speaking_ , she thinks to herself. “I’ll be back in a bit. I’m gonna drop by the pharmacy to get you something for your fever.”

“No, don’t go! What kind of Prince Charming just waltzes into the princess’s life and leaves just like that?”

Sejeong actually bursts out laughing. “My God, if you’re like this when you’ve got a fever, you’re probably much worse when you’re drunk.” She pauses. “Did you just call me Prince Charming?”

“Yes. Are you deaf now or something?”

“So you think I’m like Prince Charming?”

“Maybe,” Somi says with a yawn. “I mean, you’ve got the ‘charming’ part down. And you’re good-looking.”

Sejeong is about to say something when she realizes that this is probably just Somi’s way of distracting her long enough to make her forget she has to buy medicine. “Alright, princess. You’ve distracted me enough already. Rest up and I’ll be back in a bit, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

Somi gives her a thumbs up but her reply of “No promises” totally contradicts it. Sejeong just hopes Somi will stay put long enough.

  
  


The next day, Somi’s temperature has gone down considerably and she stops blurting out random things at Sejeong. Sejeong makes fun of her for it, of course. “But it’s good that you’re feeling a little better now. It would have probably gotten worse if we pushed through with the heist and you overworked yourself.”

Somi finishes her glass of water and sighs. “I’m sorry all of that preparation we put so much time into just went to waste because of me.”

“It was just some dumb jewelry. You’re far more important than that,” Sejeong tells her. “I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if something had happened to you last night or if your sickness got worse because I pushed it too much.” And it’s true _—_ all the treasure in the world could wait or even go to hell for all Sejeong cares. Somi would always come first on her list of priorities.

  


-

  


It’s only human nature that Sejeong and Somi stick with one another. It’s something programmed in everyone’s DNA, the natural inclination to flock together with those one identifies with and views as one’s own kind. They don’t say it but Sejeong knows it’s largely in part because they remind each other of home, of Korea — familiarity. There’s also the fact that Somi is the only other person Sejeong’s ever met that could keep up with her pace and is equally as brilliant at stealing things as she is. Sometimes she thinks that maybe Somi’s even _more_ brilliant, if she were to be honest.

So Sejeong doesn’t bat an eyelash when Somi throws her luggage into the trunk of the cab and hops in right beside her. Doesn’t shoo her away when Somi says, “Where to, partner?” Doesn’t push Somi away when he head lolls onto her shoulder when she falls asleep halfway through the cab ride. If anything, she’s a little ecstatic that she finally has some company (Heehyun’s irregular visits could hardly count as such) and maybe even a companion in the long run. She tells herself that she keeps Somi around mostly because the younger girl has skills valuable to her line of work, is quick on her feet and light with her fingers, is sharp and clever.

Then Somi smiles at her, her heart starts doing somersaults, and she thinks maybe she likes having Somi around for completely different reasons.

  
  


Sejeong likes Somi when it’s early in the morning and she’s greeted by a bright smile from the younger girl, all girlishly charming with her hair pulled up into a messy bun and her voice just an octave too illegal for seven o’clock. She’s like a shot of caffeine straight through the bloodstream, a natural upper — Sejeong whines something about how Somi should pipe it down or else she’ll wake up everyone else in the same floor as them, but she can’t fight back the smile that tugs on her lips.

She likes Somi when her lips are pressed into a thin line and her face is creased into a scowl while she tries to crack the code of a safe or a vault, or when she paces around a room mumbling things to herself until she comes up with a solution to the problem at hand, or when her eyes light up excitedly and the spark never dies even after successfully completing their, quote unquote, mission.

She likes Somi when the dress she’s wearing is tight in all the right places and really, it’s a feast for the eyes. Her eyes trail the paths and curves of Somi’s body until they’re etched so deeply into her brain and burned into the back of her eyes and her breath hitches — it’s all Sejeong sees even with her eyes closed. Sometimes Somi catches her staring and all Sejeong can do is bite down on her lip and avert her eyes to something a little less interesting.

She likes how Somi is just bursting at the seams with so much energy that she could never seem to sit or stand still, her hands always fidgeting and fiddling with something or her foot impatiently tapping to some odd rhythm. She likes how talkative Somi is, even when she really shouldn’t be talking so much but she still does anyway. She likes the stubborn jut of Somi’s chin, likes how she clenches her jaw when affronted. She likes how Somi is affectionate, almost to the point that Sejeong feels like she could get a toothache; Somi never seems to run out of hugs to give and given the fact that it’s just the two of them together all the time, Sejeong is the often flustered but always willing recipient of said hugs.

Sejeong likes a lot of things about Somi and it confuses her sometimes. She doesn’t know what to make of the strange warmth she feels spreading across her chest every time Somi does something that’s just adorable, doesn’t understand how someone could ever make her laugh or smile as much as Somi does, doesn’t know how to quell that agonizing burning she feels at the pit of her stomach, doesn’t know _why_.

All she does know is that Somi reminds her of home and she makes everything hurt a little less.

  


-

  


Somi buys herself a camera and the first picture she takes is one of Sejeong. Sejeong is stuffing her face with bread when Somi says “Sejeong, look here!” and snaps what turns out to be a very comical photo of Sejeong caught off-guard.

“Neat, isn’t it?” Somi beams ecstatically. “Sixty seconds is all you need to wait for the photo to be processed. Or, well, that’s what the advertisement on the shop window said anyway.” She hands the photo — a Polaroid — to Sejeong, who scrunches her nose.

“I look funny in this,” Sejeong says. She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “You could have at least taken a better picture.”

Somi shrugs. “I think it’s a charming picture. Tells a story, you know.”

Sejeong looks at it again and smiles a little. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“Keep it, it’s all yours” Somi says. She brings the camera back up to her face, points it directly at Sejeong and says, “Smile and look pretty for the camera.”

Sejeong puckers out her lips, makes a face, and Somi takes the picture. She pulls out the numbered tab and exposes it, counts in her head and then she peels off the development sheet. She squints at the photo for a few seconds and Sejeong leans forward to look at the photo as well. A smile spreads across Somi’s face and she hands the picture to Sejeong. “I like this one! You look adorable in it. You can keep this one, too.”

Sejeong opens her purse and tucks the two Polaroids in, being careful enough so they don’t get crumpled or scratched. She takes a sip of water and asks Somi, “Why’d you get a camera?”

“For posterity,” Somi answers curtly, too absorbed with the picture she’s trying to take of the building across the street. Her tongue is sticking out from the corner of her mouth and her brows are furrowed together. Sejeong smiles to herself. The sound of a click later, Somi turns her attention back to her companion. “To, you know, immortalize our time together in photos or something to that effect.”

Sejeong watches Somi pull out the tab and expose it. She counts in her head and waits until Somi peels off the development sheet on this photo. Somi does so and she purses her lips in disappointment. Sejeong sees white blotches on the photo. “No good?”

“No good,” Somi sighs. “I messed this one up. I should probably just stick to photographing you. I don’t think I’d mess that up.”

Sejeong reaches across the table for the camera and she holds it gingerly in her hands, hopes she doesn’t drop it. It feels awkward in her hands and she has no idea what any of the other buttons and trinkets are for — how did Somi learn to use this thing so quickly? — but taking a photograph seems simple enough. She brings the camera up, points it at Somi who’s still staring disappointedly at the photograph, says, “Somi.”

Somi looks up and — _click!_ Sejeong follows the procedure Somi had done with the previous photos and grins when she sees the final product. From where Somi is sitting, she catches the sunlight perfectly, the shadow that casts down her cheeks looking like spider legs. She looks distracted in the photo, preoccupied by her thoughts on the faulty photograph. It adds to the charm of the photograph. The color of the film adds character. Sejeong hands it over to Somi, who studies it with pleasant surprise. “Tells a story,” she says, echoing Somi’s words. “I like it.”

Somi ducks her head, lips curled into a shy smile, and Sejeong feels a warmth spread through her chest all the way down to her fingertips, feels something blossom and bloom in the cavities of her chest like flowers in the spring.

  
  


Somi makes it a habit to take pictures of Sejeong at almost any given moment. She takes pictures of her when she’s driving, or when she’s got her brows furrowed in concentration over something, or when she’s animatedly talking about something. It doesn’t matter to Somi — as long as it makes for a good picture, she’ll take it. Sejeong finds that Somi does have an eye for it; she would probably describe it as raw talent, lacking the refinement that seasoned photographers had, though of course that’s just something acquired over time.

Sejeong takes pictures of Somi, too. Though she thinks she doesn’t have Somi’s eye for photography, the photos she takes don’t turn out so bad either. The main difference between the two of them is that Somi is far bolder than she is; Sejeong is just sometimes a little too shy to point the camera at Somi and take pictures of her. She grows out of that slowly, but she still blushes like a little girl whenever she shows Somi the pictures. Somi smiles wide and bright and oh so lovely every time and there’s a renewed need in Sejeong to capture her smile in a photograph.

Once, Somi falls asleep in the car with Sejeong’s jacket wrapped around her shoulders (she’d just grabbed it from the backseat of the car and made it her make-shift blanket) and the camera lying on her lap. They’re driving back from the beach — Somi’s idea, and of course Sejeong could never say no. They’re at a stoplight when Sejeong quickly but deftly takes the camera off of Somi’s lap and snaps a picture of her, working through the process quickly enough before the red light switches to green.

She doesn’t get to take a proper look at the picture until after she’s parked the car; Somi is still fast asleep, unsurprisingly. She smiles when she sees it, the light from the street lamp streaming through the car window being the only source of illumination. This picture she keeps to herself.

  


-

  


Sejeong learns to become fond of their conversations in the car (or, whichever car it is this week, because they never kept one car for longer than they needed). Somi normally initiates them, asking Sejeong about things and stuff, about anything and everything. It starts with generic questions ( _What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite food? Why do you like popsicles so much?_ ) to more personal questions.

Once, Somi asks about Sejeong’s family. So Sejeong talks about her mother and her brother, about how loving and selfless her mother is, about how stubborn but passionate her brother is. Somi is quick to catch on the fact that she never mentioned her father. “What about your father?” Somi asks.

“He left when I was little,” Sejeong says. “Can’t say I know all too much about him.”

Somi lets that sink in. Sejeong is surprised when she nods and says, “I get that. Except I never met mine so I really wouldn’t know much about him apart from what my mom says.”

Sejeong clears her throat. She had never been very good with these kinds of conversations. “Do you...want to talk about something else?”

Somi shrugs and turns on the radio, changing stations until she finds one she likes. “Let’s just listen to music for now,” she suggests, and Sejeong agrees. They don’t talk about their families again after that.

Another time, Somi asks her, “What drove you to do all this?”

Sejeong mulls over the questions for a few minutes, a little surprised that Somi would ask her something like that. Finally, she answers, “When I used to walk home from school, I would always see these kids from one of the private schools where I’m from. I would admire everything about them, on the superficial level anyway — the way they dressed and carried themselves, the way the girls fixed their hair, the kinds of accessories and shoes they wore, always so squeaky clean. I don’t know what it was about that that really got ingrained in my mind, but I subconsciously started trying to project myself the way they did. Except, obviously, there was a huge difference still between us: I could perfect acting like them all I wanted, but I wasn’t rich like them, I didn’t have all their expensive clothes and pretty things. At the end of the day, I still wasn’t like them, still wasn’t one of them.”

“So you became obsessed with that ever since?” Somi asks.

Sejeong snickers. “I guess that’s the word for it, yes. It became an obsession I could never outgrow. I thought back then that it was just me being me, some poor kid that wished she wasn’t poor, that it’d pass and I would learn to just accept that life isn’t fair to everyone. I never really expected that I’d have the nerve to try to cheat life for everything I thought it robbed me of.” She shrugs. “Everything after that was slightly easier. It’s all just a matter of observation, exposure and a lot of acquired taste. You learn how to mix and match your clothes, you learn about garments and fabrics, you learn about alcohol and party etiquette. Even teaching myself all the languages I know is pretty easy, since I always had a knack for that. All of that? That’s the easy part.”

Somi studies her in silence, then she asks, “What’s the hardest part?”

“Honestly,” Sejeong replies, “for me it was never the heists or running away from the police and the task force a bunch of nations _apparently_ assembled just for the catching me. The latter actually flatters me, but just the slightest. The hardest part always has been having to bury everything I used to be and having to carry on this persona or character I’ve built over time. It messes a lot of things up if you mix together ‘then’ and ‘now’, at least for me anyway. I don’t know if I’m making any sense to you right now, but I hope you get what I mean.”

Somi shrugs. “Sort of.”

“And I guess it’s easy to lose sense of who you are when you’re busy borrowing bits and pieces of other people’s traits and mannerism to project yourself as _someone_ , not just another nobody they couldn’t possibly care about,” Sejeong admits to Somi. “I’ve been hit with that feeling a number of times already and it’s never nice.”

Somi says nothing after that, so Sejeong does the talking. “Want to hear about my first ever steal?” she asks, to which Somi nods eagerly, eyes lighting up.

“There were still some American soldiers left after the First Republic was established — I think I was around, what? Ten? Yeah, I was around that age when I got dared by one of my friends to pickpocket a soldier in a crowded plaza. I honestly have no idea why I ever agreed to that — _ten years-old_ , can you believe it? — but I managed to steal it without the soldier noticing. I ran back to my friends as fast as my feet would allow me to run. When we checked his wallet, it was loaded with cash.”

Somi raises a brow. “You did that when you were ten?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, I mean, I do. I guess I do.”

Sejeong pouts at her. “You don’t believe me!”

Somi laughs, lightly pushing away Sejeong’s face so her eyes are focused back on the road. “Keep your eyes on the road! Don’t get us killed yet, dummy. We still have a whole lot of adventures and stories to make.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sejeong wakes up one morning and realizes that she likes Somi — she _likes_ Somi, she _likes-_ likes Somi, capital ‘L’ Likes Somi. In boldface and italics. In bright neon lights that could blind your eyes.

 _Oh_.

(But that was never actually a big surprise, now was it?)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The first time they fight — like _really_ fight — is when Somi diverts from their plan, the one they had agreed on, and it nearly gets the both of them killed. Somi is lucky enough to just have a few scratches here and there, a few bruises that’ll heal in a few week’s time. Sejeong isn’t quite as lucky — she has a few broken ribs that make it a living hell to breathe and she can barely walk, let alone stand, on her two feet.

Sejeong is furious. Somi is defensive. It’s not a very ideal combination.

Words are exchanged, feelings are hurt, they yell at each other, and Somi storms out of their room with a slam of the door behind her. The last thing she says before marching out of the room is, “ _If you don’t want me around, you should just fucking say so!_ ” Sejeong, in a fit of anger, yells back, “ _Then fucking leave! All you ever do is mess everything up._ ”

She regrets it immediately after because the cold war they have between them is far more painful than the pain she feels in her ribs and when she limps. They don’t speak to each other for days, and by the fourth day, Sejeong already feels like she’s about to lose her damn mind. Somi won’t even look at her, won’t even sit at the same dining table as her — _God, what have I done?_

Sejeong misses Somi terribly. She misses her lively and talkative Somi, the one that could never stop bugging her about anything and everything. She misses seeing Somi smile, misses making her smile. She misses how Somi would always sleep on her bed, cuddling up beside her like a kid.

A week passes and Sejeong decides that she ought to swallow her pride and just apologize.

So she goes around the town looking for a store that sells Haribo gummy bears (she imagines Somi frowning at her and correcting her — “ _Gummibärchen_ ; it has a far better ring to it” — and her heart aches) and buys a whole carton’s worth of it. Which, in reality, is all the store has in stock anyway. She loads the carton at the trunk of her car and drives back to the hotel; the other guests at the lobby look at her strangely as she passes by carrying a whole carton of gummy candies.

Somi is sitting on her bed, her brows furrowed in concentration as she reads a book, when Sejeong enters their room. Somi doesn’t look up. Sejeong doesn’t expect her to, so she walks up to her instead and places the carton by Somi’s feet. Somi finally looks up from her book and at the carton, surprised. She leans forward and pulls the carton onto her lap, exclaims, “Did you really just buy all of _this_?”

Sejeong wrings her hands, heat crawling up her cheeks to the tips of her ears. “I wasn’t sure how to apologize, so I thought maybe you’d...maybe gummy bears…”

“ _Gummibärchen_ ,” Somi says softly, chuckling to herself.

“You _could_ just say ‘gummy bears’, you know.”

“I know. But I don’t want to.”

Sejeong sits down beside Somi on the bed and lightly nudges her with her elbow. “I’m sorry, Somi. I didn’t mean what I said and I never wanted to hurt your feelings.” She waits for Somi to say something but when she doesn’t, Sejeong stammers, “I-I didn’t mean it when I told you to leave. I don’t want you to — to leave, I mean. It wouldn’t be the same without you with me. It’d even be a whole lot worse — _I’d_ be a whole lot worse.” She bites down on her lower lip. “Listen, I’m really sorry and I—”

Somi cuts her off with a hug. Sejeong smiles into Somi’s hair. When Somi pulls away, she says, “I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too. I never wanted you to get hurt the way you did.”

It dawns on Sejeong that their faces and their lips, especially, are just a breath apart now. Her eyes fall to Somi’s lips and it takes all of her will to not cup the younger girl’s face in her hands and just kiss her senseless. Somi presses their foreheads together and Sejeong’s heart nearly leaps out of her chest and she’s almost positive Somi’s eyes flicker to her lips briefly — but Somi smiles bashfully and says, “I like you, Kim Sejeong.”

Sejeong bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from grinning from ear to ear. Instead, she jokes, “I’m relieved you still feel that way even after I was such an ass to you. Not that I’m surprised about that, because it’s a fact that _everyone_ loves me.” She scrunches her nose. “Except the feds, that is, but _c’est la vie_.”

Somi rolls her eyes but a bubble of laughter escapes her lips and Sejeong smiles. Sejeong says, “I like you too, Jeon Somi.”

  
  
  
  


**part two**

  
  
  
  


They talk about firsts — first kisses, first loves, first times.

Chaeyeon had been Heehyun’s first love. Sejeong thinks that even after all this time, Heehyun had never really gotten over that, over Chaeyeon — how could she, when Chaeyeon had her heart locked up in a silver cage and could make her weak in the knees even after all these years? Sejeong also thinks that Heehyun had never really loved anyone else after Chaeyeon; there’s something tragically romantic about it.

While Heehyun had (has) Chaeyeon, Sejeong had Kim Nayoung.

Nayoung had been Sejeong’s first _everything_. She was sixteen when she found herself falling head over heels for the older girl and Heehyun wouldn’t let her live her stupid little crush down. She doesn’t really know why Nayoung, who was a junior at the time, took any interest in her at all save for the few conversations they had prior to actually becoming friends. It had been so easy — easy to fall for Nayoung, easy to give her everything she asked for. Then things got complicated and Sejeong just knew theirs was a story that didn’t have a happy ending.

The first time Nayoung kisses her — it was her first kiss — was when they were walking in a park together late in the afternoon after school. Normally, Sejeong would have gone home with Heehyun but the latter had something to do (“You’re just ditching me to mess around with Chaeyeon,” Sejeong mutters) but this wasn’t a bad alternative. They walk around aimlessly and silently until Nayoung presses her back against the trunk of a tree and kisses her. Sejeong kisses her back, because she would have been an idiot if she didn’t. Things become awkward for a while after that; Nayoung avoids her and Sejeong does all she can to make Nayoung stop avoiding her.

(“She kissed me, Heehyun,” Sejeong whispers to Heehyun.

Heehyun nearly falls off her chair. “ _What?_ Nayoung — we’re talking about Nayoung, right?”

“Who else could I be talking about?”

“Fuck,” Heehyun mumbles. “Well, how’d it go? Was she a good kisser at least?”

Sejeong sighs a deep, resignated sigh and Heehyun just says, “Well that can’t be a good sign, now can it?”)

Three weeks pass and finally Nayoung talks to her again, though it doesn't go down as Sejeong had expected it to. Sejeong remembers that she had been in class at the time when Nayoung came knocking on the door and mumbled something to her teacher. Then her teacher told her she had to be somewhere and Nayoung would guide her there or something along the lines of it. Needless to say, no one was actually looking for her — Nayoung grabbed her by the arm and dragged her along to one of the farther (and usually empty) restrooms and brusquely pushed her into one of the stalls. Then she kissed her — rough and hard and until Sejeong was breathless. Then suddenly she’s fumbling with Sejeong’s skirt and her hand slips into Sejeong’s underwear and — Sejeong remembers it, the way she had hissed and gasped and the noises that escaped her mouth when Nayoung moved her fingers inside her, frantic and needy and even a little desperate. Sejeong had imagined this loads of times but the actual thing exceeded anything she ever expected; she bites down hard on her lower lip when she comes, and her mouth tastes like blood. Nayoung doesn’t apologize for the past weeks, doesn’t try to explain anything, and Sejeong just lets it slip — she never could stay mad at the older girl. She returns the favor, so to speak, and she relishes the feeling of having Nayoung come undone because of her, _for_ her.

It doesn’t fix things between them. It becomes a cycle: messy kisses and rushed sex and no explanations. Nayoung’s mumbles of “ _No one_ can find out about this.” It tears Sejeong to pieces but she gives herself willingly to Nayoung anyway.

(“I think I’m in love with her, Heehyun.”

“Now, hold up,” Heehyun says. “ _In love_? Are you sure about this?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

Heehyun hesitates for a second before replying, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, and she’s done enough of that to you already.”

But Sejeong doesn’t listen to her. Heehyun is not surprised, which is an unfortunate thing.)

The first time Sejeong tells Nayoung she loves her, that she’s in love with her — it ends in a disaster. Could she be blamed for feeling the way she did? Seventeen-year-old Sejeong thought it was hardly fair that despite the things they did, Nayoung just wouldn’t own up to her own feelings. So what if Nayoung had every right to be worried about everyone finding out about them, two girls who were clearly more than just friends? So what if people ostracized them or gave them dirty looks? Sejeong wanted to be selfish, or at least as selfish as Nayoung had been (in her eyes, anyway) when she told Sejeong she was crazy for ever thinking they could be more than whatever the hell it was they were, that they never should have let happen the things they did. They break things off, if there ever was such a thing to break off between them anyway.

Nayoung graduates some time after and Heehyun gets Sejeong drunk on whatever alcohol she can get her hands on to numb the pain. Sejeong experiences her first heartbreak.

  


-

  


“Get dressed and I’ll meet you at the lobby in five minutes.”

Somi looks up at Sejeong, surprised and confused all at once. She pauses midway through getting something from her purse and says, “I thought we had the night off. Like, ‘no impregnable-unless-proven-otherwise mansions or palazzos to rob’ kind of night.”

Sejeong blushes. “We do have the night off, but I thought it’d be nice to...I don’t know, unwind or something. Like a ‘take you out to dinner kind’ of night. Like a date kind of dinner, not just, you know, _dinner_ -dinner.”

“You’re taking me out to dinner?” Somi asks, and there’s this adorable lilt to her voice. A smile plays on her lips and something about it pulls Sejeong’s heartstrings.

“Yes,” Sejeong replies, then she teases, “But if you don’t get your ass down to the lobby in five minutes then I might just go find some other pretty lady to take out to dinner.”

Somi makes a face before throwing her head back in laughter. “Oh, please. You’ll never find anyone quite like me.” _Can’t argue with that_ , Sejeong thinks. Then, Somi says, a smug look settling on her face, “And besides, you like my ass.”

Sejeong tries to laugh it off but the sound that escapes her lips sounds choked. Her face is burning, too, damn it. Somi just giggles at her and Sejeong kind of feels like a teenager again, which isn’t an entirely unwelcomed feeling.

  
  


Sejeong realizes that she’s absolutely clueless about these whole ‘taking the girl you like out for dinner’ things because she’s never really had _the time_ to take out any other girls she’s liked to dinner. She never got to take Nayoung out (she winces at the memory of Nayoung), never even worked up the courage to tell Chungha she was interested in her (this was when she was in Prague for a while and all she could think of was the petite girl who always had her hair up in a ballerina’s bun, a smile always on her face), and now that both she and Somi sort of just admitted to liking each other in the romantic sense — Sejeong is absolutely fucking clueless and it’s embarrassing but Somi seems to find something charming and endearing about it so it isn’t entirely a bad thing, is it?

They find a quiet restaurant a little away from their hotel. Rome is abuzz even in the evening, and Sejeong knows that it’ll only get worse later at night when everyone is drunk on all the alcohol Rome has to offer. They’re glad they find this rather secluded part of the city with the equally secluded restaurant. It’s nice to have one calm evening all to themselves.

Despite all that, Somi still manages to be obnoxiously loud but if it bothers anyone, they don’t let it show. Sejeong supposes Somi is enough the darling to get away with it, enough the darling to get away with a whole lot of things. Sejeong just listens to the story Somi is telling her, chin propped on her hand and her lips set to a bemused smile. Somi waves her hands around a lot when she talks and she’s practically bouncing in her seat, then a realization finally hits Sejeong: Somi reminds her of Heehyun. It makes her heart ache.

Somi frowns and stops halfway through her story. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Sejeong says, laughing softly.  “It’s just that you reminded me of someone just now.”

“Really? Who?”

“My best friend,” Sejeong says curtly before taking a sip of her wine.

Somi observes her demeanor and it’s unnerving how easily Somi can pick up on these things. “What’s your best friend like?”

“Heehyun — that’s her name,” Sejeong starts. She smiles. “Heehyun is a lot like you, or at least that’s how I remember her when we were younger. She’s kind of changed, more serious now and she’s matured a bit but I’m sure she still acts like a child.”

“It’s good you still keep contact,” Somi comments, “or at least I assume you do, given what you’ve said.”

Sejeong hums in response.

“I’m also assuming you guys have a complicated relationship.”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“How long have you known her for?”

“Pretty much all my life.” _Sometimes I think that’s what makes everything a little worse_.

Somi nods, mostly to herself, and drops the topic. That’s one of the things Sejeong appreciates about the younger girl: she knows when to back off, especially when she’s treading very personal territory. Somi understands. They finish their dinner and Sejeong pays the bill. “Let’s walk around for a bit,” Sejeong suggests and Somi links her arm with Sejeong’s.

They stroll around the area silently. The sky is clear and is dotted with stars, with the silver moon hanging high above the city. There is faint music in the background, faint noises of festivities and drunken slurs. Everything is so picturesque, so like everything out of the romance movies Sejeong had seen. Somi’s eyes twinkle and Sejeong guesses that maybe she’s thinking the same thing.

A few more minutes pass and Somi says, “Let’s go to that fountain, that mammoth of a fountain that’s so famous.”

Sejeong tilts her head to the side. “Which one? Was it in any particular movie?”

Somi ponders on the question and finally nods. “ _La Dolce Vita_ — that’s the one,” she says with a snap of her fingers. “You’ve seen that one, right?”

“Yes. Though the fountain is still some distance from here.”

“What are we waiting for then? We best get going there if it _is_ as far as you say it is.”

  
  


The area is empty when they finally get to the fountain — the Trevi Fountain. There’s a skip to Somi’s steps and she’s practically dragging Sejeong along with her towards the fountain. Somi’s hand is clasped tightly around Sejeong’s hand and Sejeong thinks that nothing has ever fit better in her hands.

“Do you remember that scene in _La Dolce Vita_? The one where Marcello and Sylvia are knee-deep in the fountain?” Somi asks Sejeong over her shoulder. She tugs Sejeong forward to step into the fountain with her, shoes still on. Sejeong obliges but her shoulders tense when the cold water touches her skin.

“Of course I do,” Sejeong replies. “It’s a very memorable scene.”

“And one of my favorites,” Somi says. She trudges forward through the fountain’s pool of water, her fingers still intertwined with Sejeong’s. She guides them both through the water and she spins around to beam down at Sejeong. “Well, you can be the Marcello to my Sylvia.”

Sejeong swings their hands with a chuckle. “So you want us to...what? Remake that scene?”

“Not such a bad idea, is it?”

“Take the lead then, Somi.”

Somi lets go of Sejeong’s hand and taps a finger on her chin, says, “Let’s pretend I have a kitten with me and you, my Marcello, are off to fetch some milk for the poor little kitten.” She accentuates the ‘Marcello’ and lifts her hands to her head, pretending to have a kitten resting on her head the way Sylvia had. She starts meowing and Sejeong softly laughs to herself. Somi spins around as much as she can with water causing drag. “Marcello!” Somi calls out dramatically. “Where are you?”

Sejeong places her hands on her hips. “Do I come rushing in now?”

Somi clicks her tongue. “Not yet, Sejeong. I’m supposed to stare at this fountain in wonder and spin around.”

“But you’re already in the fountain. I don’t see why you’d still have to stare at it in wonder.”

“But that’s what happens in the movie.”

“Yes, but you’re already knee-deep — actually, _waist-deep_ — in the fountain’s water.”

“I am well aware of that fact, but we have to follow what goes down in the movie. Stop being uncooperative!”

“Well you probably shouldn’t have dragged us in here just yet, I’m just saying.”

Somi pouts at her and Sejeong laughs. She throws her hands up in surrender and plays along with Somi — she pretends to be holding a glass of milk for the (imaginary) kitten and to be looking around for Somi. Somi smiles and resumes with her own acting. She splashes water around and makes one dramatic turn, feigns surprise at the sight of Sejeong, says, “Marcello! Come here.”

Sejeong rolls her eyes but she’s grinning anyway and she makes her way towards Somi, nearly falling over on her face once and Somi just bursts out laughing at her. “I don’t remember that being part of the script,” Sejeong mumbles.  Somi reaches for Sejeong’s waist and pulls her closer. Sejeong has to look up at Somi and it’s times like this that she’s reminded how much taller Somi is than her. “You know, you should probably be Marcello since you’re taller than me.”

Somi shushes her with a finger to her lips, retorts, “Just go with it!” Then they fall silent, stuck staring at each other with little to no room left between their bodies, their clothes soaked through and they can feel the night chill all the way down to their bones. But they don’t move. Somi licks her lips and softly asks, “Do you remember what happens next?”

Sejeong nods. “They just stand here, in the middle of this very fountain, and it looks like they’re going to kiss — I thought they were going to. He’s holding her face and their eyes are shut and it’s perfect but then he opens his eyes and — they don’t kiss.”

One corner of Somi’s lip tugs upwards. “Disappointing, if you ask me.”

“So what do you propose?”

Somi dips her head and her breath is hot against Sejeong’s skin as whispers in her ear, “ _I want you to kiss me_.” Sejeong feels her breath catch in her throat and her heartbeat spikes up until it feels like there’s a piledriver inside her chest. She feels Somi’s smile against her skin when she says, “I want you to kiss me, Sejeong. I want you to kiss me like the movies: long and hard and I want you to leave me breathless.”

Sejeong swallows down the lump in her throat and gingerly cups Somi’s jaw with her fingers. She tilts Somi’s head just enough for her to easily press their lips together. She parts Somi’s lips with her tongue, licks into her mouth. She smooths her fingers through Somi’s hair and presses them tighter against each other with a pull at the younger girl’s waist. Sejeong hears a chorus of strings playing in her ears as her lips move against Somi’s and her brain all just stops functioning entirely when the kiss becomes more heated and their teeth click against each other. Somi’s fingers dig into Sejeong’s hip and Sejeong has a hand clasped around the back of Somi’s neck, pulling her face closer because close just isn’t close enough.

When they finally pull apart from each other — Sejeong pulls away with a bite down on Somi’s lower lip — they press their foreheads together and they’re both gasping for air. Both their faces break into huge, face-splitting grins and a bubble of laughter escapes Sejeong’s lips. Somi starts laughing with her and Sejeong thinks nothing could ever be more perfect.

“So, how was it?” Sejeong asks, taking Somi’s hands in hers. “Just like the movies?”

“Even better,” Somi replies. She chastely kisses Sejeong. “ _Much_ better.”

  
  


Sejeong thinks it's unfair how she's the one down with colds when it was Somi's idea to frolic around in a fountain and go back to their hotel soaked to the bone while Somi is A-okay. It isn't fair at all, and it's no fun sneezing every five seconds and not being able to breathe through her nose. Her head feels heavy and the more she blows her nose, the more she feels like it's gonna start bleeding from the amount of contact it has with tissue paper.

The upside, though, is that Somi pampers her a little too much than necessary (Sejeong isn't complaining, though) and peppers her with kisses even though it's really not the smartest thing to do when the person you're kissing is sick. Somi's hugs and cuddles quota increases tenfold but that's not something Sejeong has a problem with because she likes cuddling and hugging Somi.

Sejeong thinks that it's only a matter of time before her nose actually falls off from all the sneezing she's been doing but being the absolute center of Somi's attention makes up for it all.

  


-

  


If this were a movie, there would be a montage right about here in this portion. The romantic and sappy kind, with more kisses than necessary or maybe even humanly possible. There would be laughter, there would be heists, there would be longing and adoring gazes. In the background would be an upbeat song, the kind you would get up of your seat to dance to because happiness is infectious. And _boy_ , are Sejeong and Somi happy. Maybe even the happiest they’ve ever been.

  
  


Not a whole lot changes about their day-to-day lives. It really isn’t as drastic as Sejeong thought it would be, or at least like how people always said it would be. The only real difference is that she gets to kiss Somi all she wants now and vice versa, which is pretty great. Other than that, everything is pretty much the same, but not really in a bad way.

Oh, well there _is_ one new thing Sejeong has come to learn about Somi. She learns this new thing when she’s talking to the desk clerk — a pretty girl about her age with beautiful hazel eyes and cheekbones to die for — and Somi says in Korean, “Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?” Sejeong asks, genuinely confused. “I seriously have no idea what you’re asking me to stop doing.”

“ _That_ ,” Somi insists, lips turned down in a scowl.

“I have no idea what _that_ is supposed to mean, Somi. Help me out here.”

Somi groans. “Did you really not _see_ that?”

Sejeong sighs. “I’m just going to answer ‘yes’ to that and nothing more because I really have no idea what you’re going on about.”

“You are absolutely clueless,” Somi murmurs. “You seriously didn’t catch any of that? The hand in her chin, the batting of her lashes, that annoyingly dreamy smile she had the _entire time_ you were talking to her?”

Sejeong thinks about it then shrugs. “Yeah, guess I did.”

Somi looks at her in disbelief. Then her face easily slips into a frown. “Stop doing that thing where you make people swoon over you.”

“Well, if I _am_ doing such a thing then it’s completely unintentional.”

“ _Still_.”

Sejeong lets out a small laugh and holds her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’ll try.”

Somi doesn’t look so convinced but she nods. Sejeong presses her lips to Somi’s cheek and Somi allows herself a small smile.

  
  


Domesticity isn’t something that’s new to them. Truth be told, they’ve been about as domestic as old married couples get. In retrospect, everything about their relationship has been pretty domestic since the start, especially after they’d grown comfortable with and accustomed to one another. Sejeong thinks that they probably just grew to become even _more_ domestic, if that was even possible. (Was it?)

It’s evident in the most mundane of things, such as but not limited to the following:

  * Cuddling with each other all day when they stayed in, too lazy to get out of bed and too comfortable in each other’s arms to dare move an inch. (“Hey, you’re pulling too much of the blanket to you!” “Why don’t you just come here then so we can share this thing much easier?” Let the cuddling commence.)
  * Bickering over which shade of blue looked better or if the Prada looked better than the Paco Rabanne or goddammit maybe she should have gotten the orange dress instead? In the end they would just buy whatever they could get their hands on anyway. (“The thing with money is that you can do so much with it if it’s in the right hands,” Sejeong says, and Somi beams at her, shopping bags in both hands. Fashion, of course, is a _must_ and a priority. One must dress only in the finest of clothes.)
  * From the above mentioned comes the clothes sharing. A few shared items of clothing later and their stuff is a mess. Sejeong’s things wind up in Somi’s luggage and vice versa. They return each other’s clothes at first (“Oh, I accidentally packed your coat in with my stuff” “Thanks. Here’s the one I borrowed last time”) until they give up on that entirely. They know where their stuff is, anyway, so whoever’s luggage their clothes were in didn’t really matter anymore.
  * Playful hip-checking, which just makes Sejeong feel even older than she actually is, for some reason.
  * Fighting to hog the space in front of the vanity when they had to get their hair done or faces caked up for a night out. Though they do learn to prefer night strolls and cheaper, more character-filled restaurants (and marginally less make-up and fancy dresses) over expensive places that require expensive everything.
  * Slow dancing to cheesy and sappy love songs and/or shouting the lyrics to the ones they know, mumbling and humming to the ones they don’t.
  * The whole shebang. You get it.



Then there were more absurd instances, of course. An example of such “absurd instances” would be the time Somi saunters up to Sejeong with a leash in hand and a dog that was very much real and very much there. “Where’d you get this little guy?” Sejeong asks Somi as she bends down to scratch the dog behind its ear. The pup looks up at her contentedly. Sejeong is quick to catch the way Somi’s eyes not-so-sneakily flicker over to the blind man across the street and she exclaims, “ _Somi!_ ”

Somi shrugs and says, “He won’t notice anyway.”

“And that’s somehow supposed to make all of this _better_?”

Somi wouldn’t budge, however, refusing to return the pup. Sejeong, despite her best efforts, had grown quite fond of the pup too, which only made it harder to get Somi to return it to the blind man who clearly needed it more than either of them did. In the end, they do give it back (the man still doesn’t notice a thing) and Sejeong turns away from the pup as quickly as possible before she took everything back and let Somi win. She was a thief, yes, but she had to put a halt with dogs because she isn’t going to actually steal _a dog_ , regardless of how unfairly cute it is.

Somi had named the dog Haribo, and she sulked for the rest of the day.

  
  


Anyhow, all of this is so natural for them. No, scratch that. Sometimes it’s _too_ natural, because when Somi leans in to peck her on the lips — “I’ll be out for a bit. I’ll probably be back in an hour or so” — Sejeong barely even realizes that she says “Alright, I’ll see you in a bit. I love you” and Somi also doesn’t realize that she answers “I love you, too” just like that. Somi turns on her heel and then abruptly stops; she whips her head around and says, “Say what you said to me again.”

Sejeong blinks. “Alright, I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.”

Somi looks back at Sejeong blankly. “Say it again.”

“Why do I have to —”

“Just say it. Three times.”

One. “Alright, I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.”

Two. “Alright. I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.”

Third time’s the charm. “Alright, I’ll see you in a bit. I love —” Sejeong’s mouth forms an ‘o’.

“You just said…” Somi’s voice trails off.

“And _you_ just said…”

Pause.

“I honestly thought this moment would be a lot more dramatic,” Somi admits.

“Likewise.”

They stare at each other for a few more moments then Somi says, “Well, anyway, I’ll be heading out now. Need me to get you anything?”

“No, not really. Some bread or whatever I can snack on would be nice, though.”

Somi nods. “Okay. I’ll get you some of that bread you really like.” She presses a kiss to Sejeong’s forehead. She grins when she says, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sejeong says, easy and like stating a simple truth.

(Sejeong sometimes looks back on that moment and contrasts it with everything else about them and the lives they live. Nothing about their lives is simple; it’s a whirlwind of running around and trying not to get caught and thrown in jail, all of which are clearly far more dramatic than the first time they say those three special words to each other. But there’s something she appreciates about how simple and even anticlimactic it was; she likes to think of it as a reflection of who they are in private, when they aren’t going around stealing everything from everyone and keeping up appearances. It’s not like something out of the movies or even out of a novel, but it’s just the right kind.)

  


-

  


The thing with hands is that sometimes you just can’t control where they go or what they do. Hell, Sejeong is convinced that her hands have a mind of their own sometimes. So she apologizes profusely when her hands slip under Somi’s skirt, earning her a surprised yelp from the other girl. She apologizes when her hand immediately finds it way to the back of Somi’s dress, where the zipper is and she’s already tugging at it. Generally, she just does a lot of apologizing on behalf of her sneaky and utterly annoying hands that seem to just do whatever they want and touch whatever they want.

A lot of times, it’s push and pull between the two of them. Sejeong pulls, Somi follows, but then suddenly Somi puts a stop to it. Then they’re back to square one. Naturally, Sejeong feels bad because the last thing she wants is to force herself onto Somi too much and make her uncomfortable, which is exactly what Somi looks like when they have their almost-there-but-not-quite moments. So she spews out all the apologies she can muster, mentally scolding herself.

It’s push and pull but sometimes it’s Somi who does the pulling (or pushing, as long as walls and beds or any steady enough surface is involved), though the end is always the same anyway. Somi usually looks oddly apologetic, too, and it pulls at Sejeong’s heartstrings; consolingly, she’ll kiss her on the cheek. It’s alright. They aren’t in a rush, anyway.

  
  


Tonight is different. They come back from a successful heist, faces creased into grins and adrenaline still pumping through their veins, and the first thing Somi does when they come stumbling into their hotel room is grab Sejeong by the front of her shirt and kiss her right on her open mouth. The kiss becomes heated and soon they go stumbling backwards into the bed, Somi’s hands carded through Sejeong’s hair and Sejeong’s hands cupping Somi’s thighs.

Somi tugs at the hem of Sejeong’s shirt. “Off. _Now_ ,” she says firmly against Sejeong’s lips.

Sejeong laughs and helps Somi pull it over her head and off of her. She lets out a sharp gasp when she feels Somi’s hands on her bare waist, the sudden contact between their skin sending a shiver down her spine. She works to remove Somi’s shirt too and she kisses her long and hard, her hand at the back of the younger girl’s neck pulling her closer. She has Somi lying flat on her back as she kisses her, hungrier and needier by the second, their fingers fumbling as they try to touch more and more of each other. It’s intoxicating and it’s enough to drive both of them crazy.

When Sejeong’s hands drift lower to unbutton Somi’s jeans, she feels Somi freeze beneath her. She flushes and stammers, “I-I’m sorry. I’m getting a little ahead of myself. We can stop if you want, if this makes you uncomfortable.”

Somi chews on her lower lip unsurely before she says, “No. No more stopping.”

It takes a while for that to register in Sejeong’s brain, but when it does, she’s already unbuttoned and unzipped Somi’s jeans. She takes them off of her with a few tugs and with Somi’s help. Somi helps her remove her own after, then she gulps; she’s only two pieces of clothing away from having her completely naked.

“I said no more stopping,” Somi tells her. Her cheeks are rosy pink, her voice husky. She cups Sejeong’s face in her hands and pulls her down for a kiss. It gets the gears in Sejeong’s mind working and turning again as her lips move against Somi’s, her fingers shaking the slightest when she she pulls unclasps the hooks of Somi’s bra, takes it off of her and tosses it to the side. “Your hands are shaking,” Somi remarks, amused.

“Yeah, well, I’m a little out of practice,” Sejeong replies with an embarrassed chuckle. Somi smiles at that, a smile loaded with fondness, and Sejeong admits, “Okay, maybe I’m _very_ out of practice.”

Somi answers to that by taking Sejeong’s hands in hers, steadying them as Sejeong removes the last piece of clothing on the younger girl. Sejeong marvels at the sight before her, her breath hitching in her throat. The burning in the pit of her stomach just becomes more unbearably painful, and she breathes out, “ _Wow_.”

Somi lightly smacks her arm, blushing redder. “God, you can be so embarrassing sometimes.”

Sejeong brushes away a strand of hair from Somi’s face, says, “It’s just... _wow_.” Somi’s hair is splayed out around her like a halo, her skin so soft and smooth under Sejeong’s fingertips, body long and lean. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything even half as beautiful as Somi is now, in all her glory only for Sejeong to see. She dips her head down and leaves a trail of kisses along the side of Somi’s neck, nipping and sucking at her skin, and fleeting kisses along her jaw. Somi sighs contentedly, her hands gripping Sejeong by her shoulders. She drags Sejeong down for a deep kiss and it’s then that Sejeong slips her hand between their bodies and slips two fingers inside Somi. Somi moans into Sejeong’s mouth, nails digging into her shoulders and back arching.

Sejeong gets a rhythm going, stroking Somi until her mouth falls open and she’s making the ungodliest of sounds. Sejeong is just about to pick up the pace when Somi suddenly blurts, “ _Wait_.” Sejeong’s hand stops moving immediately, fingers still knuckle-deep inside Somi, earning her a groan from the girl. “Is something wrong?” Sejeong asks, brows furrowed. “Did I…”

“No, no,” Somi answers, her breaths coming in heavy. “ _God_ , no. This is — you’re —” she stumbled over her words and Sejeong can barely fight back the smile that tugs on her lips. Somi lets out a shaky breath and shyly says, “It’s embarrassing, but I...I’ve never been with anyone before.” She takes in her lower lip between her teeth, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I’ve never...not like _this_ …but...I’m glad it’s _you_.” She gulps. “I just wanted to tell you that.”

Sejeong looks back at Somi in surprise before her face breaks into a crooked smile. She kisses Somi on the cheek. Slowly, she starts moving her fingers inside Somi again, adds a third finger, building it up until it’s quick and rough and Somi is biting down so hard on her shoulder she’s sure Somi’s drawn blood. When Somi comes, her body is taut and she gasps Sejeong’s name.

Sejeong waits for Somi to settle down before placing a kiss on her lips. “You know, I like the sound of my name when it’s coming from your lips,” she says to Somi. She yelps when Somi flips them around so that it’s now her that’s under Somi. “My turn,” Somi says, smiling down at her with eyes both dark and bright all at once, and Sejeong nods all too eagerly.

  
  


The sunlight that comes streaming through the window wakes Sejeong up. She slowly opens her eyes, letting out a soft groan. She hisses when she moves her shoulder — when she looks down, she finds a reddish bruise on it, a goddamn _bite mark_ . Then it all comes flooding back to her. _Oh_ . She turns on her side (every muscle in her body is sore, but a good kind of sore, _God bless_ ) and comes face to face with a peacefully sleeping Somi, her lips parted just the slightest. Sejeong smiles to herself; she sees the trail of pink and red marks along the otherwise smooth expanse of Somi’s skin. She lets her fingers skate along Somi’s arm, working upwards to her face; she brushes away stray strands of hair and it’s enough to stir Somi awake. Somi’s eyes flutter open and Sejeong says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Somi replies, lips curling into a smile.

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did. You?”

“Yeah,” Sejeong answers, feeling awkward. She admits, “So, uh, I don’t really know what people...talk about when…”

“Uh, me neither.” Somi’s smiles crookedly. Her eyes land on the mark on Sejeong’s shoulder and she winces. Bashfully, she murmurs, “Sorry about your shoulder.”

Sejeong chuckles. “That’s fine. I don’t mind. I mean…” Her eyes fall on one of the love marks along Somi’s clavicle. “Can’t say I’m not guilty of leaving some of my own on you.”

Somi scoots closer to Sejeong. Sejeong wraps her arm around Somi’s waist. “So, last night…that really happened, huh?” She lets out a shy giggle that gradually grows to become full-blown disbelieving and delighted laughter. It makes Sejeong smile, she herself still in disbelief. “You know, you were lying when you said you were ‘very out of practice’.”

Sejeong blushes. She honestly couldn’t completely agree with that. For the most part, she felt clumsy and her hands kept fumbling, and more than once or twice she’d gotten a little too carried away. “I have no idea what to say to that, honestly.”

“Just trust me when I say you were good,” Somi tells her, and her voice dips a pitch huskier. It does crazy things to Sejeong.

Sejeong clears her throat, bites the inside of her cheek until it hurts. Then, she asks, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Somi shifts closer and the blanket rides down her a body a little.

“About what you said last night...am I really you first?”

Somi makes a face and Sejeong bursts into laughter. “Jesus Christ, what kind of question is _that_?”

“Okay, that was admittedly a really dumb question.”

“Glad you acknowledge that,” Somi says pointedly, but she adds, “Honestly, that was why I was a little skittish before. I’ve never slept with anyone before you, and I was really nervous about it. I mean, _of course_ I’ve thought about sleeping with you, but every time we actually got close to doing that, I would just choke and freak out.”

“Hey, that’s totally okay, alright? And I don’t want you to feel pressured to do these kinds of things, or anything else really, just for me.” She gives Somi a reassuring kiss, then she asks, “What time is it, by the way?”

Somi glances over to the clock, squinting her eyes. “Half past eleven.”

“I’m starving,” Sejeong groans. She sits up in bed, her back against the headboard of the bed. “Let’s go get breakfast.” She moves to get out of bed but Somi’s hand shoots out and she’s yanked back down; her heart nearly stops beating right then and there when Somi moves to straddle her. She’s effectively been pinned down.

With a mischievous grin, Somi says, “I’ve got a better idea.”

Sejeong bites on her lower lip and gulps. “Breakfast can wait.”

  
  


They wake up again later that afternoon, a tangle of limbs. The bedside clock reads three o’clock. Sejeong pats Somi’s cheek to wake her up and Somi grumbles unintelligible things back at her. “Somi,” Sejeong says in a whisper. “Hey, wake up. It’s three o’clock already.”

Somi groans but her eyes flutter open. Groggily, she replies, “ _So?_ ”

Sejeong smiles despite herself. Then a thought hits her. “Hey, you know what I really want right now?”

Somi’s brows are furrowed when she asks, “Sleep? Sex? I don’t mind either but I’d really appreciate it if you said ‘sleep’.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s none of the above,” Sejeong answers. Somi makes a face at her. “I’m seriously craving popsicles right now.”

Somi opens her mouth to say something then closes it. “Popsicles. Are you for real, right now?”

“Never been realer.”

Somi makes whining noises. “But if we get popsicles that means we’ll have to get out of bed!”

“But I really want a popsicle!” Sejeong whines back, puckering her lips out in a pout, imitating Somi and her signature puppy dog eyes and pout. She is genuinely surprised to see just how easily Somi gives in. _So this is what_ I’m _like when she uses this trick against me_.

“Fine,” Somi mumbles. “But you’re carrying me out of this bed.”

“Like a princess?” Sejeong says, referring to the time Somi was sick and had asked her to be carried to bed ‘like a princess’.

Somi smiles. “Like a princess.”

  
  


Sejeong is down to her third popsicle (that strawberry-orange hybrid) and Somi to her fourth (bright yellow lemon). Sejeong lies contentedly on her stomach while Somi sits by the edge of the bed. The wrappers of the popsicles are strewn to the side of the bed; they’ll clean that up later.

“I’ll admit,” Somi says, “the popsicles weren’t such a bad idea.”

“They were a _great_ idea,” Sejeong replies.

“You’re taking way too much credit for this than needed.”

“I got you to get out of bed. That’s an achievement in and of itself.”

“Only because you agreed to carry me out of bed. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Sejeong frowns. “Whatever, princess.”

“I really like it when you call me that,” Somi says with a satisfied smile. “Makes me feel like I actually _am_ a princess.”

“Well, you’re _my_ princess,” Sejeong tells her, grinning. “And I intend to make you feel like one and treat you like one, accordingly.”

Somi lightly shoves Sejeong by the shoulder but she’s grinning from ear to ear too. “My God, you are the cheesiest person I’ve ever met.”

“But you like that about me!”

“It’s sad how right you are,” Somi says with a sigh. “Though, to be honest, I like way too many things about you. It’s unbelievable, really.”

Sejeong’s eyes light up. “Well, what are you waiting for, dearest? Feed my ego.”

"I guess one of the things that initially drew me to you was the fact that you brought with you a promise of adventure," Somi tells Sejeong. "And I liked that, I really did. I thought you could help me live out a life right out of the movies. I was obsessed with that idea growing up, and then you came in and I thought, _this is it_. I thought that was all you'd be, honestly: someone who'd finally help me live my life like something out of the movies, someone who'd finally give me all that complications and adventures I wanted."

"Did I succeed at that, at least?" Sejeong asks, nose scrunched. "I'd feel terribly let down if I didn't."

Somi chuckles. "Yes, you did. But the thing is, the more time I spent with you, the more you proved to be... _more_. You're unbelievably sweet, really charming, and you have a smile that just melts my heart every time. It wasn't long before I found myself developing a tiny, little crush on you."

"A crush?" Sejeong teases. "That's so very middle school of you."

"Well, it's true anyway! Stop teasing me for it."

“Okay, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just a ‘tiny, little’ one.”

“Oh, and as if you were any better?”

Sejeong murmurs, “Touché.” Somi fondly pats her on the cheeks. “You know, I’m still pretty hungry. We haven’t eaten a proper meal all day.”

Somi motions to the empty popsicle wrappers on the floor. “We just had popsicles.”

“Somi, I highly doubt frozen chunks of sugar can count as a ‘proper meal’. Likewise with gummy bears.”

“Don’t drag Haribo into this! Though, now that I think of it, I _am_ pretty hungry too.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Somi pouts at Sejeong and Sejeong pushes herself up to kiss Somi.

  
  


Somi sticks her head out of the walk-in closet’s door and says, “Mind if I borrow one of your cardigans?”

“Sure,” Sejeong replies. “Which one?”

“Mm, the light pink one. Powder pink.”

“Go ahead.”

Somi says thanks and buries her nose through the closet again, only resurfacing ten minutes later to say, “It’s not here.”

“It isn’t hanged with my other clothes?”

“Nope.”

Sejeong ponders on it, then she calls back, “Check my luggage. Must’ve forgotten to take it out along with some other stuff.”

“Alright. Thanks!”

Sejeong is surprised when Somi walks out just a few minutes later with the cardigan in one hand and a stack of letters in the other. She freezes when her eyes land on the letters. _Shit_ , Sejeong thinks, mentally kicking herself. _I totally forgot about that_. She gulps.

“I saw these —” Somi waves the hand with the letters — “in your luggage.”

Sejeong barely even blinks before she sharply says, “Put them back.”

Somi looks back at her in surprise, flinching at the tone of Sejeong’s voice. Sejeong feels bad, of course. She could hardly blame the other girl, it’s not like she knew anything about those letters. In a gentler tone, she says, “I’m sorry about that. It’s just...just please put them back inside.”

Somi nods. “Sorry, too. I was just curious about them.”

“That’s alright.”

Somi puts the letters back and she doesn’t bring them up later when they’re eating a whole day’s worth of meals at a nearby restaurant. Sejeong is thankful for that, because she doesn’t think she could possibly muster the appetite to eat everything they’d ordered (correction: everything _Somi_ ordered, which looked like _everything_ on the menu to Sejeong) if she had to explain those letters to Somi. They’ve had a good time so far, and really, she wouldn’t want anything to ruin that even just the slightest.

When Sejeong calls over the waitress to pay the bill, she finds Somi clutching her arm with a vice grip and glaring daggers between her and the waitress. The waitress leaves and Somi grumbles, “She was flirting with you.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.”

“How am I not even surprised that you wouldn’t notice her making subtle advances at you?” Somi huffs indignantly.

Sejeong shrugs, says, “Hey, I really didn’t notice. My eyes were on my wallet for the most part.” Then, with a smirk, she adds, “Are you jealous?”

Somi mumbles something under her breath and she doesn’t let go of Sejeong for the remainder of the night.

  
  


Somi can’t keep her hands to herself. Sejeong is hardly any better, but at least she displays a tad bit of self-control whereas Somi just doesn’t care.

Somi doesn’t care where they are or if people see them. Whatever Somi wants, she will get — whenever she wants, how ever she wants.

(Somi straddles Sejeong in the car, her head bumping the top of the car. Sejeong takes a quick glance at the side mirror and checks to see if there’s anyone in sight and thank God there isn’t because knowing Somi and knowing herself, whatever they were going to wind up doing would not be something she’d want anyone to see.

“Somi,” she hisses. “We’re supposed to be staking out this place, not” — she motions to Somi and the little space there is between their bodies.

Somi just folds her mouth over Sejeong’s, grabbing and pulling her closer by the back of her neck. “Put your hands on me,” she whispers against Sejeong’s lips and Sejeong eagerly complies, all thoughts about their stake-out completely thrown into the garbage, her hands cupping Somi’s thighs. The sensation of Sejeong’s hands on her skin sends a jolt through Somi and she jumps up a bit, hitting her head on the roof of the car again. Sejeong laughs and Somi grumbles, “Couldn’t you have gotten a bigger car?”)

She doesn’t even care if they’re in the middle of a heist. If she’s got an itch underneath her skin, it has _got_ to be scratched.

(Sejeong almost drops the bag stuffed with the jewelry they’d stolen when Somi yanks her by the elbow and pushes her back against the pool table. Her eyes are dancing mischievously and her lips are curled back into an almost carnal smile. Sejeong knows exactly what she wants.

“Are you serious?” Sejeong whispers incredulously. She motions around the room. “ _Here_ ? _Now_?”

Somi kisses her on her open mouth, drags Sejeong’s lower lip between her teeth. It’s enough to get Sejeong weak in the knees but she still isn’t giving in. “ _Come on_ ,” Somi whines. Like magic, she switches from vixen to whiny overgrown baby, her lips set into her signature pout. _This isn’t fair at all_ , Sejeong thinks. _She_ knows _I can’t say no to her when she does that_.

Sejeong licks her lower lip, feels the sting from where Somi bit it. She isn’t going to give in, she tells herself that repeatedly but Somi is giving her that puppy dog look, the one she uses on Sejeong when she really, really, _really_ wants something, and Sejeong knows she’s lost this battle already. “Fine, but we have to make it quick.”

Somi claps her hands delightedly and kisses Sejeong again, her hands working to lift Sejeong’s shirt over her head. The devil — Jeon Somi is the devil.)

Though, as aforementioned, Sejeong is hardly any better than Somi. So Somi yelps when Sejeong hooks her hands under the bends of Somi’s knees and lifts her up on top of the kitchen counter, fumbling to unbuckle Somi’s belt and unbutton her jeans. “Easy now, tiger,” Somi says with a shaky laugh. She lifts her hips up just enough to help Sejeong pull her jeans off of her. “Are you sure about this?”

Sejeong lightly nudges Somi’s legs further apart and cocks a brow at her. “You’re always the one so eager to do this kind of stuff and _now_ you worry?” she says. Somi pulls her closer by the front of her shirt and wraps her arms around Sejeong’s neck. Sejeong presses her lips to the side of Somi’s neck, and she feels the shiver that courses through Somi’s body. “Besides, they won’t be back for another few hours. We have all the time — and all of their expensive alcohol — in the world.”

Somi smooths her fingers through Sejeong’s hair. “And the painting we came for?”

“We won’t even break a sweat over that,” Sejeong answers dismissively. She’s stolen enough of these expensive paintings that she could probably do it now with her eyes closed. “But for now…” She guides Somi until she’s half-lying on her back. Sejeong hooks her fingers through the waistband of Somi’s underwear and slides it down her legs and off her. Somi’s bottom lip is caught between her teeth and Sejeong’s head is right between her legs; she cards her hand through Sejeong’s hair. With the most saccharine and angelic smile and her voice pitched a little lower than usual, Sejeong says, “For now, sit back and let me do the work.”

(Sejeong takes her time, almost too agonizingly so, and by the end of the night Somi’s hip is smarting and she can barely walk straight. They get the painting they broke into the mansion for and a few other things, for keeps. In the car, Sejeong smiles lazily and says, “You can repay me later.”

“You’re the devil,” Somi mumbles, her face burning.)

  


-

  


Like any other couple, their relationship isn’t always sunshine and rainbows and romantic heists. They have their fair share of fights and arguments sometimes over the simplest of things, their fair share of misunderstandings and miscommunication, their fair share of jealous bouts, and their fair share of dead air and heavy silence. They’re just human, after all.

However, there are times when Sejeong just doesn’t understand Somi. Not in the way you might think, but because Somi says nothing to help her understand. She doesn’t understand why sometimes Somi will fall really silent and hardly talk to her, doesn’t understand why Somi can go from being her usual upbeat self to suddenly being shrouded with dark clouds and sadness. Of course she asks Somi what’s wrong, of course she does. The only problem is that Somi won’t tell her, no matter how hard she tries to coax an answer out of her.

Sometimes the episodes (Sejeong doesn’t want to think of them as such, but right now that’s all she can call them) last for an entire week, sometimes as short as an hour, sometimes only so briefly that if you blink your eye you’d miss it.

“Hey, talk to me,” Sejeong says. It’s more of a plea than anything. “Is something wrong? You’ve been acting so down lately and I hate seeing you sad.”

Somi sighs. Sejeong waits for her to say something, to start opening up, but five minutes pass and the younger girl still doesn’t say anything, so she gives up. They’re stuck with an awkward and heavy silence hanging between them when Somi finally says, her voice just barely above a whisper, “What if I’m not special?”

Sejeong frowns. “What do you mean?”

“What if I’m not special?” Somi asks again, louder this time. “What if I’m not special _to you_ , what if I’m not the exception? What if there’s nothing special about anything that you do for me? What if there’s no real weight or gravity to the things you say to me, or all the charming and sweet things you do for me, or the smiles you give me? Because I see it all the time — you use it on them, on everyone else, all the time. You know how to win them over, you know how to charm them and have them bend to your will. And it really gets me thinking sometimes, it does. _What if I don’t know you?_ ” She heaves out another sigh. “I don’t know where one version of you ends and the other begins sometimes. The lines are so blurred. I know it’s probably stupid and irrational to be getting so worked up and insecure over something like that, but I can’t help it.”

Sejeong takes Somi’s hand in hers, her mind still processing everything Somi had said. Somi’s voice drops to a whisper when she confesses, “Sometimes I’m scared I won’t be enough for you, not when...not when you’re _you_ and you can have anyone you want. Someone better than me, someone more mature — someone who isn’t _me_ , period. I’m scared you’ll leave me and all I’ll have left is just fragments and broken bits and pieces because I gave _everything_ to you.”

“Jesus, Somi, don’t think that,” Sejeong says, her own heart feeling heavy. “I’m not going to tell you something like ‘I’ll never hurt you’ because it’s impossible for us not to hurt each other no matter how hard we try to avoid that, but I want you to believe me when I say that I love _you_ and _you_ alone. I’m yours — with every fiber of my being, down to the molecules, all yours. I might not always be the greatest person to be with, and I might not always be able to make you feel as loved as you deserve to feel, but...but I don’t want you to ever feel that way, okay? You can always talk to me about it; I’ll always be ready to listen. And honestly? You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

Somi smiles and intertwines their fingers together. “Do people ever tell you just how cheesy you can be?”

Sejeong shrugs, says, “Heehyun always used to say that about me. To be fair, though, I got most of it from her.” She brushes her thumb over Somi’s. “Feeling better?”

Somi nods. “I’m sorry for not opening up sooner.”

“Don’t apologize. I’d rather you tell me about this when you’re comfortable with opening up as opposed to you feeling obligated to.” She kisses the back of Somi’s hand. “So, princess. What adventures will we make today?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There are three knocks on the door. When Sejeong doesn’t acknowledge it, the knocking becomes more persistent. Room service never came until they were both out of the room and Somi seemed to have taken it upon herself to make sure they left the room (and the bed) as little as possible.

“Who is it?” Sejeong calls from the bed, her hair still tousled from sleep. Somi is in the bathroom taking a shower.

“ _Girl scouts!_ ” calls back the voice on the other side of the door. Sejeong frowns. From the bathroom, Somi asks, “Who’s that knocking at the door?” Sejeong tells her it’s nothing but she gets up from the bed and walks over to the door.

When Sejeong swings the door open, she’s greeted by the sight of Heehyun holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in another. Her oversized sunglasses are perched on the top of her head and her sun dress is pristine white. Her lips are curled into a smile when she says, “Mind if I come in?”

  
  
  
  


**part three**

  
  
  
  


Somi calls it a sob story, or rather, she dismisses it as one. Sejeong just listens.

“My father was a soldier, or, no, he _is_ not was,” Somi says, her brows furrowing as she absentmindedly fiddled with her fingers. They lie beside each other, staring up at the ceiling. “A foreigner in an equally foreign land — stationed in Korea for a while, I mean. I’m sure you’ve heard millions of stories like this one already.”

“I suppose you could say that,” Sejeong replies.

“Well, then you know what happens, don’t you? My mother falls in love with a G.I., he gets what he wants, leaves, and then I’m what she gets in return.” Somi shifts closer to Sejeong and Sejeong searches her voice for any indication of sadness but finds none. “It’s just another typical wartime story, I suppose.”

Sejeong intertwines their fingers together and Somi continues: “She waited for him, you know. For most of my childhood, all she ever did was wait for him every single day. I think I made it more difficult for her, though — I think every time she looked at me, she would see _him_ , and sometimes I felt like she hated me because of that.”

“None of that is your fault.”

“I know. But at the same time I can’t really blame her. I don’t. She never got married even after all those years. I think she still holds on to the hope that he’ll come back for her, like he promised he would. Come back for _us_ , for _me_. For a while I thought the same thing, then I grew up and my eyes were opened to the ugly truth of it all.”

Somi falls silent for a while and their eyes bore into the ceiling. Sejeong doesn’t ask her anything, doesn’t move. She waits until Somi speaks again, her voice still even: “I always knew I was different from the other kids. I looked different, too different, and I hated myself for that for the longest time. They looked at me differently, usually unkind.” She pauses. “They called me all sorts of things, but the worst of it all was when they would call me a mutt.”

Sejeong winces. She feels a dull aching in her chest and she tightens her grip on Somi’s hand. “Jesus, that’s horrible. I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

“Don’t feel bad for me,” Somi says, a ghost of smile pulling at her lips. “I’m not the only one who’s had to go through that — others have had it worse, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Some of them…” Her voice trails off and she clenches her jaw. With a shake of her head, she says, “Nevermind. Let’s not talk about this anymore.”

Sejeong nods and turns her head to look at Somi. How anyone could ever want to hurt Somi is beyond her, it appalls her. It hurts her to think about it, a lot more than she could ever put into words, so she places a kiss on Somi’s temple instead. Somi smiles appreciatively. “So, what’s your sob story?” Somi quips, turning her head to also look at Sejeong.

“That’s a story for another time,” Sejeong answers and Somi just nods, nuzzling Sejeong’s face.

With a hum, Somi softly says, “Good night, Sejeong.”

“Good night, Somi.”

  
  


Born at the start of the war, Sejeong supposes it’s only fitting that her childhood, and the rest of her life in the long run, is as turbulent as the world she had been born into.

An absentee father, a brother and an overworked mother are all Sejeong has to boast for family. Though by the time she’s nine-years-old, her father and mother get divorced and their family of four becomes a family of three.

They’d never been rich and Sejeong thinks that maybe that’s why she enjoys the line of work she does (if it could be considered as such) — but she had never imagined she’d turn to a life of crime. She never really made up her mind on what she wanted to be when she grows up like most kids have, but this? This wasn’t even on her list of possible job options.

Regrets? She has none. Or at least she tells herself that.

Heehyun had always been the troublemaker between the two of them. Sejeong simply picked up her best friend’s habits along the way.

It isn’t Heehyun who teaches her the basics — pickpocketing, forging, the works — because, frankly, Heehyun had always been subpar (read: complete shit) in those areas. Sejeong learned through observation and trial and error. It had always been just fun and games for the two of them until Sejeong realized just how much she could do and _more_ if she just put her mind into it.

Heehyun seemed to have sensed it too, though back in their childhood she didn’t think so seriously of it — a stark contrast to now. Back then, Heehyun just made the most of her friend’s talents.

(“My mother can’t find out about this!” Heehyun exclaims, shaking Sejeong by the shoulders. Her eyes are wild and her voice is frantic. “You know her. She’ll have my head on a silver platter if she sees this!”

Sejeong shrugs off Heehyun’s hands from her shoulders and takes the crisp strip of paper from Heehyun’s hand. A letter from the disciplinary office of their school; Sejeong often jokes about how it’s practically become Heehyun’s second home now. She skims over the details of her best friend’s offense and scoffs when she sees the allotted space for the parent or guardian’s signature. “No, Heehyun. I will _not_ forge your mother’s signature.”

“Oh, come on, Sejeong! You’re far better at this stuff than I am!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to be an accomplice to your crimes all the time. My mother isn’t happy about all the trouble you drag me into either, you know.”

Heehyun huffs indignantly. “Excuse me, but you willingly drag yourself into them. Besides, you enjoy doing all of this.”

Sejeong purses her lips. “I’m still not forging her signature, Heehyun. ‘Sides, I have no idea what it looks like.”

Heehyun grins at her and pulls out another piece of paper, folded and dog-eared at the edges. She opens it up and hands it to Sejeong — something from the bank and at the bottom, Mrs. Ki’s signature. Sejeong groans, running a hand through her hair. “You are unbelievable.”

“So will you do it?” Heehyun asks. When Sejeong just glares at her, she pouts her lips out and whines, “ _Please_.”

Sejeong sighs and throws her hands up in defeat. Yanking the statement of account from Heehyun, she grumbles, “Fine, but just this once.” She studies the signature — it isn’t awfully complicated, at least. “Give me a few minutes.”)

Heehyun then and Heehyun now are like two completely different people to Sejeong, though sometimes she still sees faint glimmers of the kid she grew up with. She sees it sometimes when Heehyun smiles crookedly, or when she barks a laughter and Sejeong realizes just how much she’s missed the sound of it.

Neither of them are the same people they used to be, not really. They aren’t kids anymore, though sometimes Sejeong wishes they still were, wishes they’d never grown up and apart. But all that changed the day Sejeong packed her things and left Korea for good, never looking back.

  


-

  


They sit outside at the balcony of Sejeong and Somi’s room, stuck in a staredown. The champagne remains untouched.

“Cigarette?” Heehyun offers, holding out the pack in front of Sejeong. She has one dangling on her own lips, waiting to be lit.

“No thank you,” Sejeong says through gritted teeth. Her jaw is clenched tight and her face is set to a scowl.

Heehyun gazes at her studiously for a moment then shrugs. She strikes a match and lights her cigarette, inhales some of the smoke before breathing it out. “You should turn that frown upside down. It’s such a lovely day, you know.”

Sejeong leans back into her chair. “What do you want this time, Heehyun? You should know by now that no matter what you do or say, I won’t change my mind.”

“Easy now,” Heehyun says, holding her hands up. She opens her bag and fishes out an envelope. Sejeong eyes it and Heehyun places it in front of her. “Your mother sends her regards. As always.”

Sejeong takes the envelope in her hands and silently stares at it for a moment. Like always, though, she doesn’t open it. She places it back down on the table. The edge is gone from her voice and her eyes momentarily, and her voice is choked when she asks, “How is she?”

“She’s doing alright. Not getting any younger, obviously, but she’s doing fine,” Heehyun answers nonchalantly. She blows out a few more puffs of smoke and leans forward, folding her hands on the table. “Of course, you would know that if you actually opened the letters she sends you and replied even just once, like any decent daughter or human being would.”

Sejeong leans forward as well, until her face is just a few inches away from Heehyun’s. “Never talk to me like that again,” she says in a low and icy voice. Heehyun holds her gaze, blows smoke out at her face and bursts out laughing when Sejeong makes a face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Psh, you love me,” Heehyun says with a grin.

“Unfortunately,” Sejeong grumbles. But she smiles.

Both Heehyun and Sejeong are surprised when Somi, who looks equally as surprised, walks towards them draped only in a bathrobe. She brushes away her damp bangs from her eyes and her eyes bounce back and forth between Heehyun and Sejeong. She looks down at her robe-clad self and says, “Well I’m terribly underdressed.”

Sejeong clears her throat, aware of how her face is heating up. Heehyun’s eyes flicker back and forth between them and she looks like she’s about to make fun of Sejeong for acting like a flustered teenager. That’s totally something Heehyun would do, anyway. Somi walks over to Sejeong and bends down to kiss her on the lips, after which she turns her full attention to Heehyun. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” Somi greets amicably. She adjusts the lapels of the bathrobe and offers Heehyun her hand. “I’m Somi.”

Heehyun gives Somi’s hand a shake, smiles. “Pleasure to meet you, Somi. I’m Heehyun.”

Somi purses her lips then mouths _ah_ . “So _you’re_ Heehyun. Sejeong’s told me a bit about you.”

“Nice things only, I hope,” Heehyun jokes and Somi laughs. “I don’t think Sejeong’s told me about you, though.”

“Really?” Somi looks so disappointed by that and Sejeong would find it absolutely endearing in any other situation. “That’s a shame.”

Heehyun waves a hand dismissively. “There’s a lot of things Sejeong hasn’t told me about, so don’t feel so bad.”

Sejeong takes Somi’s hand in hers, loosely lacing their fingers together, and says, “Somi, darling, if it’s not too much to ask, I’d really like to have a few moments in private with Heehyun. We have a lot to talk about and I really don’t want to bore you with our business.”

Somi brushes her thumb over Sejeong’s. Her expression is even as she looks straight into Sejeong’s eyes, and they have one of those quick telepathic conversations of theirs. _Please?_ Sejeong asks with her eyes, and Somi nods. “I’ll go for a walk around, I suppose,” Somi says to them. “We haven’t had the time to properly go around the city yet.”

“Sounds like a great idea. Make sure to show me around after,” Sejeong replies. She places a kiss on Somi’s hand and Somi walks back into the room to get changed. Sejeong and Heehyun wait until Somi leaves the room before they continue conversing.

Heehyun raises a brow at Sejeong. “She’s pretty.”

“She knows, Heehyun.”

“That she’s pretty? It’s a given that pretty girls know they’re pretty.”

Sejeong rolls her eyes. “No, smartass. She knows about _everything_.”

“I don’t suppose she’s some sort of accomplice to your crimes now, is she.”

Sejeong’s eye twitches.

“Jesus Christ.” Heehyun pulls out a new cigarette and lights it. “It’s like every time I come back to visit you, you’ve done something even crazier than the last.”

“Don’t you like that? It gives you something to keep you on your feet.”

“No, Sejeong. I _do not_ like that. Do you even realize the gravity of the consequences you’ll have to face eventually?”

Sejeong’s eyes briefly flicker down to the letter her mother sent her. “Are you seriously going to give me that talk again, Heehyun? At this rate, you might as well be my mother.”

Heehyun glares daggers at Sejeong through the thin veil of smoke that she exhales. “You’ll be thrown into prison, you fucking idiot. Do you think it’ll be just a few years? No! You’re lucky if they cut it down to half of what I heard it’s going to be. And how do you think your mother will feel, huh? First, her only daughter runs off into fucking Europe to steal things for a living and now she has to watch you get thrown into jail too.”

Sejeong clenches her jaw. Her heart aches at what Heehyun’s said, aches like it hasn’t in a long time. Of course she’s thought about all of this, of course she knows the repercussions. “Anything else you want to say?”

“How could you be so irresponsible as to actually drag some kid into whatever the hell it is you’re doing?” Heehyun places the burnt out cigarette into the ashtray and crushes it with too much force.

Sejeong crosses her arms over her chest and heaves a sigh. “ _I_ wasn’t the one who asked her to be part of this. I didn’t want her to be, but she insisted. She was the one who wanted to join me.”

Heehyun groans. “And you think that makes everything better, somehow?”

Sejeong doesn’t say anything.

“You think you two can just go around and freely live out this Bonnie and Clyde fantasy of yours forever? You know for a fact that you can’t, not forever. It has to stop somewhere for your sake and for hers, if you really care about her.”

Sejeong sounds more tired than defensive when she says, “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“So explain it all to me. Help me understand,” Heehyun tells her, her voice so earnest and sincere it almost breaks Sejeong’s heart.

“I can’t go back that. I can’t go back to being _nothing_ and being _nobody_ , not when I’ve spent all these years living as a projection of myself, making people look at me like I _am_ somebody. I never cared if I had to keep stealing my way to the top or at least just to keep up this image I’ve built for myself — it’s a _performance_ , and everything I do, everything I choose to do, aligns with that performance. And Somi?” Sejeong scoffs. “Don’t lie to yourself and say she isn’t anything like me, because you know that she is. She wants this as much as I want it, needs it as much as I need it. I can’t explain it any other way than that, and it wouldn’t make a difference even if I could.”

Heehyun looks her dead in the eyes and says, “You know what I think? I think that you’re a coward. That you’re lying to yourself. That you’re full of shit. That you’re acting selfish when you know that isn’t who you are. But none of that’s ever gonna stop me from coming back to you again and again until you’re tired of seeing my fucking face and you wanna claw it off me; I won’t leave you, I can’t give up on you — _never_. You always had my back when we were kids, and now I’ll always have yours.”

It feels like all the wind has been knocked out of Sejeong’s lungs. Her chest feels heavy and her throat feels thick. She feels tears sting the back of her eyes and her hands are trembling. Heehyun doesn’t look or feel any better; her face is dotted with pink blotches and she’s fumbling to get another cigarette to calm herself. It takes her three tries to finally light it; she breathes in the smoke gratefully. They remain like that for a few minutes — bathed in the sunlight and enveloped with a hearts clouded by darkness. Oh, the irony.

“My boss wants you to help us with something,” Heehyun says, breaking the silence. She pushes aside the pack of cigarettes. “If there’s one thing you should know about her, it’s that she won’t take no for answer. She’ll probably have my head on a silver platter if I don’t return with you in tow.” She idly fiddles with her fingers. “You get a thing or two in return, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I need you to say yes. Say you’ll help us.”

Sejeong is too drained emotionally and physically to act stubborn and push Heehyun’s buttons just for the hell of it. She just sighs. Heehyun observes her in silence before throwing in the towel, too. Sejeong watches Heehyun slowly get up from her chair and collect her things. Heehyun pulls out a piece of paper from her bag and places it in front of Sejeong. “You know what to do.”

Sejeong watches Heehyun exit the room. When Heehyun’s finally gone, she pops the cork off of the champagne bottle and pours herself some of it in one of the glasses Heehyun had brought. She takes a sip of it, lets it hit the back of her throat.

It tastes horrible.

  
  


Sejeong digs through her luggage for the stack of letters she’s left buried under her neatly folded and stacked clothes. Some of the envelopes at the bottom of the pile are a little more worn than those on top, a little yellowish and crumpled at the corners. She walks over to the bed and sits herself down, contemplating whether or not she should open and read the letters. Not all, of course, but some at least. She still has the latest letter in her other hand, practically begging to be opened.

After five minutes of useless deliberating, she sighs and places the new letter into the pile. She shoves it back under her clothes and shuts her luggage close. Those could wait some other time (and she ignores the fact that she tells herself this every single time — _they can wait, maybe next time_. But when was next time?).

  
  


Somi comes back two hours later with a brown paper bag clutched to her chest. She places it on the bed and goes out to the balcony to find Sejeong blankly staring at the surroundings. Somi sits down on the chair opposite Sejeong, the one Heehyun had occupied, and waits for Sejeong to notice her presence. She waits five minutes to no avail. With a sigh, she says, “As much as I enjoy staring at you, it sure is getting tiring waiting for you to notice that I’m sitting right in front of you.”

Sejeong finally snaps out of her reverie and turns her head to look at Somi. “Oh,” she says. “Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

Somi purses her lips. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know if I want to,” Sejeong admits. Her head lolls back. “It feels like opening a Pandora’s box of horrible, horrible emotions and things. ‘Sides, I don’t want to burden you with something like that.”

Somi ponders on that for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about that, you know. I don’t mind. You could drop all of your emotional baggage on me and tell me all of the worst things about you and I’d still love you all the same. You don’t need to keep this all to yourself, because I’ll be here for you to help you get through whatever it is you’re going through. I might not have anything helpful to say or I might not know what to tell you to make you feel better, but I’m always here to listen when you need someone to talk to and when you need someone to lean on.” She looks away briefly. “Honestly, before you came along, I always felt like I was alone. But being with you’s really...I don’t even have the words for it. I don’t think I can ever fully capture all the good you’ve brought to me, and I might not be able to return all of that to you or give back to you what you gave to me, but I’ll always be here for you. Now and always.”

Sejeong can barely contain the smile that spreads across her face. Her heart feels so full, overflowing with so much affection and adoration, that she feels like crying again, but for a totally different reason now. She swallows down the lump in her throat and manages a weak laugh. “God, what is it with everyone trying to make me cry today?”

“Wow, what did you and Heehyun talk about that made you want to cry?”

Sejeong shakes her head. “I told you, it’s like opening a Pandora’s box. I’d rather not talk about any of it, not now anyway. I’ve had enough emotional rollercoasters for one morning.” She reaches across the table and holds Somi’s hand in hers. “But thank you. I can’t express my gratitude enough to you.”

Somi nods. Then she smiles and says, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sejeong answers in a shaky voice. Then, “God, I love you so much.”

“Don’t start because this is just going to lead to us fighting over who loves the other more, and we both know that I love you the most.” Somi sticks her tongue out at Sejeong and the older girl laughs.

When Somi reaches for the champagne, Sejeong warns, “Don’t bother with that. It tastes like cat piss. Jesus, it’s been years and Heehyun still doesn’t know how to differentiate good champagne from bad.”

“Maybe she just picks out the really bad tasting ones to gift you to annoy you.”

Sejeong frowns. That _is_ something Heehyun would do.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sejeong finally works up the courage to read her mother's letters. When Somi goes out for a stroll, Sejeong pulls out her luggage bag and digs through her pile of clothes to get the neatly stacked-together letters, tied hastily together with a string. She gingerly holds them in her hands, her heart starting to beat like a jackhammer. It shouldn't be so daunting to read a few letters from home, shouldn't make her more scared than how she feels when she's in the middle of a heist with the possibility of being caught and being thrown to jail always so very real. And yet here she is, sitting in the middle of the floor with a pile of unopened letters in her hands, scared shitless. With the exhale of one shaky breath, she unties the string and lets her hands run over all of the envelopes. She picks out a random one, one of the envelopes from the middle of the pile, and opens it with trembling fingers.

 

_July 16, 1963_

_Dearest Sejeong,_  

 _How are you? Have you been doing well? Heehyun tells me that you're doing just fine there, wherever 'there' might be now. She says the last time she saw you, it was in Luxembourg, but only briefly. Luxembourg_ _— such a foreign sounding word, so strange to my tongue. What is it like there in Luxembourg? What does the food taste like? What are the people like? I can only imagine. Maybe one day you and I will be able to talk about this, and all of your travels, and you can tell me what these strange places with strange names are like._

_Your brother sends his greetings as well. He has recently gotten engaged, by the way. Oh, your brother, always was so impatient and so in hurry to grow up. Try as I did to talk him out of it, or at least to convince him to wait a little longer, he simply wouldn't listen. Stubborn, your brother is. His fiancée is a wonderful young lady, doe-eyed and with a lovely smile. I feel you would have quite liked her. Your brother is absolutely taken with her; sometimes I catch the way he looks at her and I begin to understand why he's in such a rush to marry her. It makes me think of you a lot, too. I hope you find someone who fills your heart with so much love and joy, too. Someone who will fill your days with sunshine and make you feel all the love in the world. Nothing would make me happier than to see you, my darling daughter, happy._

_I love you always, and I hope to see you soon._

_Love,_

_Your mother_

 

Sejeong puts the letter aside, letting everything it said sink in. She reads the date on the letter and thinks that given the time that has passed since then, her brother must be a married man now. She can imagine the big, dopey smile that must have been on his face when he watched his bride — now his wife — walk down the isle; his hands must have trembled, he must have fidgeted with his bowtie nervously. She can imagine how happy her mother must have looked to see her little boy get married; she must have had tears in her eyes, must have held them back but she was never very good at that. She must have hugged him tight after the wedding, must have told him to never let this one go. She imagines all of that and feels her heart break because she wasn't there for it, she wasn't there for her brother. She'd missed out on all of it.

She collects herself and pulls out another letter from the pile. She picks a letter from 1961, the year Heehyun started visiting her, when the KCIA was established and she became an active agent.

 

_September 8, 1961_

_Dearest Sejeong,_  

 _How are you? I hope you're doing okay wherever you may be. So much is changing about Korea, yet at the same time it feels like nothing is changing at all. How about where you are — what is it like there? Do you feel the same way? Like everything is moving forward but not moving at all?_  

_Your brother and I dearly miss you, although he's more reluctant to admit that. He still harbors some bad feelings against you, but he's not as angry as he was before. He misses you, he truly does. He worries for you, too. Says the world is a big, wide, dangerous place and you shouldn't be running around the way you do. I disagree, though. You've always been a strong one, even stronger than I have ever been. I don't doubt that you'll do fine no matter where you are or wherever you are thrown. Even then, however, I worry about you sometimes, too._

_I hope to hear from you soon._

_With love,_

_Your mother_

 

When she finishes reading the letter, she puts it to the side with the previous one she had read. She pulls out a handful from the bottom of the pile. These must be the ones her mother wrote before 1961, from the first four years of Sejeong's departure from Korea. These were the ones that her mother had left unsent until Heehyun finally tracked Sejeong down and came knocking on her door with a stack of letters clipped under her arm. Sejeong pulls out one and opens it. Something inside her twists and aches when she reads the date of the letter.

 

_August 28, 1958_

_Dearest Sejeong,_

_Happy birthday! By the time this finds its way to you, it might be way past your actual birthday, if this will even ever make its way to your hands._  

 _It's been a year since you left but I still hope that you will come back home to us. I miss you dearly and I worry for you daily. I can hardly be blamed; it's no easy feat to not worry about one's only daughter running off to God only knows where. I pray to God everyday to watch over you and keep you safe, to make sure you are always in good health and to always provide for you when you are in need. I can only hope and pray that you will always be okay wherever you may be and wherever you go._  

_I want you to know that I am not angry at you and I never will be.You are my daughter and I will always love you no matter what. I could never be angry at you, as unwise as that sounds. If this is something you feel you need to do, then I can only try to understand you and wish all the best for you. So that's what I've been trying to do — I've been trying to understand why, though I never can wrap my mind around it. Your mother was never quite as sharp or smart as you._

_I'm sorry if I ever failed you as a mother. I'm sorry if I was the one who drove you away. I'm sorry if I failed to provide for you. I'm sorry if I wasn't enough, especially when your father left us. I'm sorry if you ever felt ashamed of us, of me. I'm sorry that I couldn't give you everything you wanted. I'm sorry if, even until now, I can't be everything you need me to be._

_Oh, what am I doing? It's your birthday, I shouldn't be saying such dark things! Again, happy birthday, darling, and know that I love you always. I hope that you come home soon. I will be waiting, always._

_With love,_

_Your mother_

 

Sejeong reads the letter again and again and again, her hands and lips trembling. She hears the door open and the click of heels on the floor, but she can't get herself to look up. Her heart only aches more when she hears Somi's voice: "Sejeong? Are you okay?" She doesn't answer, so Somi rushes to her side, settling down to sit beside her on the floor.  

Somi looks at the letters on Sejeong's lap and the one in her hand. "Sejeong?" She says, softer this time. Still, Sejeong doesn't answer; her hands are still shaking and her breathing becomes heavy and labored. Somi observes her in silence before throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in for a tight hug. Before Sejeong can even stop herself, she's sobbing into the front of Somi's dress.

Sejeong’s breaths come in harsh gasps as she cries in silence — tears that are ten long years overdue. Pain and sadness numbed down and locked away in the farthest recesses of her heart so she could forget, or at least pretend. Somi holds her the entire time, holds her until she’s cried the last of her tears and until her breathing has evened.

“Feeling better now?” Somi asks gently.

Sejeong nods weakly. “I’m sorry about your dress,” she croaks, sniffling.

“It’s fine.” She combs her fingers through Sejeong’s hair soothingly. “Do you want to talk about it?"

Sejeong almost instinctively says _no_ , but she catches herself. Breathe in, breathe out.

She tells Somi her sob story.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The phone rings for a full two minutes before Heehyun snaps, “Soyul, answer the goddamn phone!” Soyul gets up from her corner of the room with a scowl thrown at Heehyun’s way, says, “Why can’t you answer the phone? I’m busy.” Heehyun just waves her off and goes back to reviewing the files Nayoung had given to her.

Soyul walks up to Heehyun a few seconds later and says, “It’s for you, jackass.”

Heehyun smiles sweetly at Soyul who just flips her the bird before returning to her work. Heehyun always did enjoy having Soyul as her travel buddy; she’s entertaining, at least. And one of the few people she could trust with her secret visits to Sejeong in the past, before Nayoung busted her. Phone in her ear, she says, “Hello?”

“Catherine,” Sejeong deadpans. “Of all the aliases, you choose Catherine.”

  
  


There are three knocks on the door before Soyul opens it. Sejeong stares at her in surprise but Soyul just looks bored. “Heehyun will be back up in a few minutes,” she tells Sejeong. “She went out to buy some stuff. Probably restocked on her cigarettes.” Then she buries her nose in her work, completely ignoring Sejeong’s presence, after that.

Heehyun walks into the room ten minutes later and true enough to Soyul’s words, she had bought a few new packs of cigarettes. She spots Sejeong sitting on the couch and greets, “Well, look who’s here.”

“Hello to you too, Catherine,” Sejeong quips. “Really, though. Why Catherine? And if you’re Catherine, who’s she supposed to be?”

“Jenny,” Soyul says over her shoulder. Sejeong considers it and says, “Well, it suits _her_ at least.”

“Thank you,” Soyul replies.

Heehyun frowns at her. “There are far more pressing issues at hand than my alias choices,” she retorts. To Soyul, she says, “Can you leave us in private for a moment?” Soyul gets up and leaves without question, looking more relieved than anything. After lighting a cigarette — Sejeong is sure smoking isn’t allowed inside the room, but clearly Heehyun didn’t give a damn — Heehyun asks, “So, how was your day?”

“ _Comme ci comme ça_ ,” Sejeong replies. “By the way, the champagne you brought tasted like absolute shit.”

“Really? I thought it tasted fine.”

Sejeong scoffs, thinking back to how Somi had suggested that maybe Heehyun picked out the really bad champagne just to annoy her. Clearly, Somi had been wrong to give Heehyun the benefit of the doubt. “Years in espionage didn’t teach you a thing or two about good alcohol?”

“Never saw the importance in it,” Heehyun says with a shrug. “The academy taught most of that stuff though, said it would come in handy or whatever, help us blend in. The rest is just learned through observation, and I guess in part is just acquired taste.”

“You’re horrible at this,” Sejeong sighs. “As much as I’d like to lecture you on how to pick apart good champagne from cat piss that people try to pass for champagne, we have to discuss your...offer.”

Heehyun’s eyes light up at that. “I’m honestly a little surprised you called.”

“I’ve had some time to think about it. My being here doesn’t mean I’m fully convinced into accepting your offer, but I’m all ears for whatever else you have to say. Besides, I need more information on this before I jump into it.”

“Did your Somi have something to do with this sudden change of heart, I wonder?”

Sejeong raises a brow at her. “Why’re you so interested in her anyway?”

“For starters, the last time you liked a girl, she trampled all over your heart and you were a mess for a very long time,” Heehyun says. “You know, Kim Nayoung? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about her already, Sejeong. You were a _mess_.”

“How could I ever forget? You got me drunk to help me cope with the heartbreak and my mother was angry as hell when she caught you trying to sneak me into my bedroom at half past two a.m.”

Heehyun grins at that. “Hey, don’t act like it was such a bad idea. You had fun!”

“I did,” Sejeong admits sheepishly. “But the part with my mother yelling at me while I had a monster headache? That wasn’t so much fun.” She reminisces on it and laughs a bit at it now. “But what’s any of that got to do with Somi?”

“You look at her...differently,” Heehyun replies slowly, unsure of what words to use. “I’ve seen how you looked at Nayoung, and I saw how you looked at Somi. I’ve seen how you look at the people you love and care about, and there’s just something different with this kid.”

“How so?” Sejeong asks, genuinely curious.

“It’s unbridled, unapologetic and honest affection, the kind that’s just too much sugar even for my sweet tooth, and you know I have one hell of a sweet tooth. It got to me because, well, I’ve never seen you look at anyone like that before. Even the briefest of glances ooze it.” She pauses to take a drag. Exhales. “You looked at her like she’s the sun and stars and all of the universe combined, and I realized then that I’ve never seen you so happy before as you did when you were with her. The kind of happy I haven’t seen in awhile on you.”

Sejeong is taken aback by everything Heehyun’s said, and it’s made evident by the way her mouth is agape. “Who knew you were the poetic type, huh.”

Heehyun snorts. “I have my moments of creative genius, but they’re pretty rare, so cherish this while it lasts, bud.”

“Noted. So, anyway, about the offer —”

“And you fucking ruined our moment,” Heehyun says with a click of her tongue. “Seriously, we were having a really good moment just then.”

“You know I didn’t come here to chitchat.”

“I know, but can’t we do just that? Just for now? We started off on the wrong foot the other day, and I honestly miss just being able to talk to you like this.”

Sejeong’s heart softens up at that. She’d missed it too; most of their conversations nowadays ended with them mad at each other or not talking, which isn’t enjoyable at all. She mulls over it for a moment then asks, “Seen Chaeyeon lately?”

Heehyun visibly tenses up at the mention of Chaeyeon and Sejeong almost regrets asking. “No,” Heehyun answers dryly. “You?”

“Nope. Not since my last and only trip to Russia.”

“That was, what? '64?”

Sejeong nods. “The only reason I haven’t set foot there again is because she told me not to. And I trust her on that, especially knowing how the Russians are.”

“That and you pissed off some particularly big and powerful people.”

“That part is totally negligible.”

Heehyun rolls her eyes at Sejeong.

“Do you know the story behind all that, why she’s working with the Reds?”

“No.” Pause. Hesitation. Then, “I wish I did.”

They drop the topic after that.

  


-

  


Russia. 1964.

The last person Sejeong expects to see in Russia is Jung Chaeyeon, let alone with a gun in her hand pointed right at Sejeong’s forehead. So much for pleasant reunions.

It’s one of the few operations that ends up as a bust — Sejeong had been hired by so-and-so to steal back some priceless statuette by another so-and-so, an heirloom or something like that. None of that really matters to Sejeong; what matters is the huge sum they’re willing to pay her _if_ she gets the damned thing back. So they throw her to Russia in the middle of what feels like a snowstorm and she just takes it in stride.

Everything goes smoothly and according to plan until things just take a nosedive for the worst and Sejeong finds herself being chased by someone that’s just so inhumanly fast. It’s a blur of events from there on out — running through alleyways, over roadblocks, past dense crowds of people, through cars zipping past impatiently. Then finally she’s cornered and with a gun staring her point-blank in the face. The statuette lies snugly inside the leather bag slung across her body.

Sejeong gulps, thinking that _fuck_ , this is it. She’s as good as done for. She can already hear the sound of the gun being fired, can already see all the red that will taint the white snow. Her heart is beating so fast she feels it could rip free from her ribcage and she prays to whatever gods are up there that they forgive her, until:

“For fuck’s sake, Sejeong.”

Sejeong frowns. Her ears must be fooling her because that definitely sounded like Korean, not Russian. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

The figure — a girl — pulls down the thick hood and the ornaments that hide her face and Sejeong nearly bursts out laughing. Whether out of relief or just because of the strangeness of this entire situation, she doesn’t quite know. “Fancy seeing you here, Chaeyeon.”

Chaeyeon scoffs. She looks almost exactly like how Sejeong remembers her, except her features seem to be a little sharper now and her face a little smaller. Her eyes are still the same piercing eyes, the same ones that made Heehyun weak in the knees all the time. Winter — Sejeong sees winter etched onto Chaeyeon’s face. It’s almost frightening, really. “You never should have set foot here.”

Sejeong lightly taps the barrel of the gun. “Mind not pointing this at me?”

Chaeyeon pulls away the gun and holsters it. She crosses her arms over her chest and sighs. “Did you know you’re wanted in at least three countries right now? And they’ve tipped us that you would be here.”

“Nice to see you too, Chaeyeon,” Sejeong mumbles. She gives Chaeyeon a once over. “What are you doing running around with the Reds?”

“That’s a long story,” Chaeyeon replies curtly. _Look at you_ , Sejeong thinks. _You act just like them now_. “The point is, you shouldn’t be here.”

Sejeong shoves her hands into the pockets of her winter coat. “Did you really just chase after me, nearly blast my brains out, just to tell me all this?”

Chaeyeon’s lips tug upward into a small smile. _We haven’t lost you entirely after all_. “You’re lucky they allowed me to take on this task. You would have wound up dead otherwise.”

Sejeong tilts her head to the side. “Is this your way of telling me you’re gonna let me go?”

“Only if you give me what’s inside the bag.”

Sejeong hands the entire bag to Chaeyeon with reluctance. What a shame this operation turned out to be. Chaeyeon frisks the bag and, satisfied, slings it across her body.

“I’d offer to go out for drinks,” Chaeyeon says, “but that’ll have to wait for some other time. For now, you best not ever come back here again.”

Sejeong chuckles. “It really _is_ good to see you, Chaeyeon. Circumstances, aside.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Chaeyeon says, allowing herself to smile a little. She pauses for a moment, averting her eyes to her boots. Lips pursed, she asks softly, “How is she?”

“She’s doing alright,” Sejeong replies in an equally soft voice. “I don’t think she’s quite forgiven either of us.”

“Does she still visit you?”

“Still does. It’s irritating, really.”

Chaeyeon laughs softly, but it sounds empty. “Always was a persistent one, isn’t she.” She adjusts the strap of the bag. “You better get going now. They’re gonna get suspicious if I disappear for too long.”

"You still haven't told me what you're doing working with the KGB."

"I told you: it's a long story. It can wait 'til next time, when we're under different circumstances."

Sejeong nods. “Thank you. For this, I mean.” She pulls up the collar of her coat and tucks her chin in, throwing one last glance at Chaeyeon as she walks away. That’s the last time she sees Chaeyeon for a very long time.

  
  


(It isn’t _entirely_ a bust. Sejeong makes up her mind: she isn’t leaving Russia without taking a little something back with her. So she robs the man who hired her, robs him of more than what he promised to give her if she completed the task. _Make that four countries_.)

  


-

  


“You know, I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

Heehyun glances over at Sejeong. “Given what a lot of thought?”

“All the stuff you said to me, especially about Somi.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sejeong falls silent. After a few moments, she says, “You know, the thing about being a thief is that nothing you have, or almost nothing, is yours. Not _yours_ — not completely. Do you get what I’m saying?”

Heehyun nods.

“You can’t really say it’s yours, because it isn’t. In a lot of cases, the personalities or personas we project — we can’t even stake claim on those and call them ours. Because they aren’t really, not completely. None of that is yours to begin with, but you covet it, you know, so you take it. You take it and try to make it feel like it’s yours but you know it isn’t, not completely.

“The thing with Somi is...she’s _mine_ . Mine —” Sejeong’s lips curve upward into a smile “— she’s mine, Heehyun, all mine and mine alone. And that’s...that’s something I haven’t even gotten to fully grasp yet, can’t wrap my mind around it. I never had anything to call my own, not since I started this and maybe not even before that, but suddenly I have someone now that I can say for sure is mine and I’m hers. It’s amazing. It’s unbelievable.” She laughs. “It still amazes me every time I think of it, and I’ve been thinking so much about it lately. I honestly don’t know what I did to ever deserve something like that, to deserve _her_.”

When Sejeong turns to look at Heehyun, she finds that her best friend has the biggest smile on her face, and if her eyes weren’t fooling her, she had some tears in her eyes too. Heehyun’s eyes are warm and her smile is sincere. These moments have become so rare for them, and it saddens Sejeong to realize that all the times they could have spent talking like this they spent instead getting angry at each other or shunning each other. “You lovesick fool,” Heehyun snickers. “But I’m glad you’ve found someone that makes you this absurdly and grossly happy. You deserve that, you big sap.”

Sejeong smiles back at Heehyun. “Hey, I got all this sappy and sentimental shit from you! You were always like this around Chaeyeon. So, really, I can’t be blamed.”

“Have you forgotten all the sickeningly sweet things you said about Nayoung before?” She scrunches her nose. “You were the absolute worst, and you were so cheesy. Not that you’re any less cheesy now. In fact, you just got relatively worse.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“You wish,” Heehyun jokes, then she backtracks, “Wait, okay, pretend I never said that because it got really awkward when I remembered you and Somi are together and she probably wouldn’t enjoy hearing me tell you that you wish you could fuck me.”

Sejeong cracks up at that and Heehyun joins in. For a brief moment, all their worries and burdens are forgotten and it feels like they’re sixteen or seventeen again, without a care in the world and before things got messed up and complicated. When their laughter dies down and is chased after by silence, Heehyun asks, “Why don’t we ever talk like this anymore? It feels good to talk to you like this, like nothing ever changed.”

“Maybe because we’re too busy being scared,” Sejeong answers. “You, scared for me. And me? Scared of everything, scared of facing reality. The kind of fear that makes us irrational and makes us lash out at each other.”

“I’ve missed you, bud.”

“I’ve missed you too, moron.”

“Why do you always have to ruin perfectly good moments?”

  


-

  


“Somi, we need to talk.”

She feels Somi frown against her chest. “Later, I’m tired.”

“But it’s important.”

Somi looks up at her with her brows furrowed. “Couldn’t we have discussed this earlier before we —”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Sejeong interjects sheepishly. “But you distracted me! I was supposed to talk to you about this earlier until you just started undressing me.”

Somi lips curl into a satisfied smile. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

Sejeong realizes just then that this is probably the least appropriate time to be talking about it, but there’s no taking it back now. “You remember how Heehyun visited, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“She came here to offer me something. A job, of sorts.”

Somi mulls over that. “What is this job, exactly?”

“Well, I don’t know the specifics but clearly they need me to do the one thing I’m great at: stealing things.”

“What’s in it for you?”

Sejeong shrugs. “I don’t know yet, but I trust Heehyun when she says they’ll repay my efforts, should I say yes, that is.”

“So, why did you need to talk about this with me so urgently?”

“Because I want to know what your opinion on it is, obviously. I don’t want to say yes without knowing whether or not you agree with the decision I make, especially if it can affect us in the long run.”

Somi smiles. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m here for you now and always, and no matter what you choose, whether you say yes or you say no, I’ll stick by your side and help you see it through.”

“And if I make the wrong decision? What if I fuck up?”

Somi groans and buries her head in the crook of Sejeong’s neck. “You ask too many questions,” she whines. “But to answer your question: it doesn’t matter. Whatever the outcome, I’m sticking by you. Now go to sleep.”

  


-

  


Heehyun asks, “Do you ever miss home? Ever miss your family?”

“Of course I do,” Sejeong replies. “How could I not? I got good at numbing down the feeling, you know, of missing them, but sometimes it just hits me real hard and it takes me a while to get out of the slump I’ve found myself in.”

“Have you…”

“I have. I didn’t get to read everything, but I’ve read enough.”

Heehyun nods to herself. Exhales a thin cloud of smoke. “She misses you, you know. Dearly. Every time I visit her, she has this expectant look on her face, like I’ll have you walking right behind me and everything will be like it used to be. It pains me to watch that hopeful look just dissipate when she realizes that, no, you aren’t there. Not today, not tomorrow, maybe not ever.”

Sejeong doesn’t say anything. Heehyun waits for her to say something but when she doesn’t, Heehyun continues, “I bumped into your father once, you know.”

That catches Sejeong’s attention. Her voice sounds clipped when she asks, “What did he want?”

“He was looking for you,” Heehyun answers carefully. This had always been a sensitive topic for Sejeong. “It surprised me, honestly. I didn’t think I’d see him ever.”

“How’d you bump into him?”

“I was leaving your place after visiting just as he was about to come in.”

Sejeong doesn’t look too happy to hear that but she maintains a neutral expression and tone. “What was he doing visiting my mother? He hasn’t visited in years and he decides to drop by just like that?”

“Like I said, he was looking for you.”

Sejeong crosses her arms over her chest and clenches her jaw; Heehyun knows her well enough to know that she isn’t going to let this one go easily. She never did, especially when it was her father they were talking about. “When was this?”

“Over a year ago, I think.”

“And you just conveniently forgot to tell me about it before?”

“Maybe. I knew how you’d react.”

“So you saved it for now, hoping I’d just brush it off?”

“No, I seriously just remembered it now since we’re on the topic of your family.”

That makes Sejeong roll her eyes but Heehyun can see that it’s taken away some of the tension, at least. “What did he tell you?”

Heehyun thinks about it for a moment, trying to recall what they’d spoken about. In truth, all she can really remember is how she had gotten defensive and a little too snappy with him, mostly on Sejeong’s behalf. “Well, for starters, he said that he’d been meaning to visit for a while, to check up on you guys, on you especially since he heard just recently about how you haven’t been in Korea for a few years now.”

“I’m surprised he even knows. I didn’t even think he would _notice_.”

“Says he found out when he dropped by your brother’s office, probably hoping for some father-son bonding time or whatnot, and your brother told him. About how you just packed your things after graduation and boarded a plane to god only knows where. He also mentioned how I was the only one who’s had any contact with you and actually knows where you are.”

“Did he really expect me to be there when he visited? I’m sure my brother’s told him enough to get that point across.”

Heehyun sighs. “He did sound and look very concerned, Sejeong. He’s still your father, after all.”

Sejeong looks away, looking like a dejected and stubborn child. Heehyun waits for her to say something, anything. She has second thoughts now on her decision to bring this up, especially after how well everything had been going. Finally, Sejeong murmurs, “The last time I saw him was when I was fifteen. He took me out for ice cream.”

“Fifteen? It’s been that long since you last saw him? Wow.” Heehyun raises a brow. “His little father-daughter bonding time didn’t go the way he thought it would, did he?”

“No, obviously. It was dumb of him to expect me to treat him so warmly after everything he did.”

“Did he ever marry her, that woman he left your mother for?”

Sejeong shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows, really? I didn’t see a wedding band or an engagement ring when I saw him, so I wouldn’t know.”

Heehyun racks her brain to try to remember if she spotted anything of the sort when she saw the man, but she fails. “Don’t remember seeing anything either.”

“He very well could have gone off with some other woman for all I care or know.”

Heehyun sighs. “You know what? Let’s just drop this topic entirely.”

“Gladly.”

  


-

  
  


They busy themselves talking about anything and everything and they hardly notice when Soyul enters the room. Soyul raises her brows at the both of them. “This is one very long chat you’re having,” she comments.

Sejeong glances down at her watch and is surprised to see that it’s past seven o’clock in the evening already. Have they really been talking for that long? She thinks about the time she arrived — a little past four o’clock, if she recalls correctly — and realizes that yes, they _have_ been talking for that long. “Oh, wow.”

“Jesus, time really just flew past us, didn’t it?” Heehyun purses her lips. “Still want to talk about the offer? I don’t mind if you stay a little longer.”

Sejeong gets up from her seat and says, “Tell you what: let’s just talk about this tomorrow, over lunch. Or over coffee, if you’re up for that. I’ll bring Somi along so you can properly get introduced to her and then we’ll discuss things.”

Heehyun is taken aback by Sejeong’s invitation but she nods, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

Sejeong gives her a light punch on the arm and smiles. “I’ll just call you up tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

Heehyun scoffs. “Me? Late? Never! I’m the queen of punctuality.”

“I’ll let you have this one, since today didn’t end with us wanting to neck each other,” Sejeong says before she turns around and exits the room. Heehyun’s smile still lingers on her lips. Soyul shrugs off her coat and says, “This is the first time you haven’t looked like complete shit after talking to her.”

“Guess there’s a first for everything, huh?”

“I suppose so,” Soyul agrees. Then, almost as an afterthought, she says, “I like her.”

“Everyone does.”

“Did you managed to persuade her?”

Heehyun frowns. “You’re giving me serious whiplash with how easily you just change topics like that. But, I don’t know if her sudden change of heart — if she _does_ have a change of heart — has much to do with me.”

Soyul thinks about it for a moment. “How so?”

“It’s that kid,” Heehyun says surely. “It’s got to be. I think that’s what’s finally knocking some sense into her.”

“That’s a plausible assumption,” Soyul says in agreement. “Companionship after years of being accustomed to being alone can work wonders on a person’s psyche, I think.”

Heehyun raises a brow. “Are you some sort of shrink now or something?”

Soyul rolls her eyes. “It’s all really simple, if you think of it.”

“I’ve had enough thinking for one day,” Heehyun murmurs. “Anyway, I’m starving. Let’s go get something to eat.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The first thing Heehyun says when she sits down on the chair opposite Sejeong and Somi is: “Nice flowers.”

“Thank you,” Somi replies. “Sejeong got them for me.”

“Did you pick the flowers yourself?” Heehyun asks Sejeong. She opens her pack of cigarettes and pulls out a stick, lights it. “I love the colors. So vibrant.”

“I don’t know shit about flowers, you know that,” says Sejeong. “The vendor did all the work.”

“Don’t _I_ get flowers?”

“Funny, Heehyun.” Sejeong cranes her neck and waves over a waitress. “I’ve already spent a thousand _liras_ on Somi, so go get your own flowers.”

Heehyun makes a face. “We haven’t even ordered anything and you already spent _that_ much?”

“Love is expensive,” Somi jokes.

Sejeong scoffs, “ _Betting against you_ is expensive.”

Somi grins. “You brought that upon yourself! You were the one who placed an absurdly high bet anyway.”

Heehyun’s eyes bounce back and forth between the two, a thin veil of cigarette smoke in between them. They dictate their orders to the waitress. When she leaves, Heehyun says, “You two are something else entirely.”

“I hope you mean that in a ‘aren’t you two just _perfect_ for each other?’ kind of way,” Somi tells Heehyun. She takes a block of sugar between her index finger and thumb and drops it into her coffee.

Heehyun smiles. “I can see why Sejeong likes you.”

“I don’t see what’s not to like about me,” Somi half-jests. “I’m very much likeable, isn’t that right, Sejeong?”

The corner of Sejeong’s lip turns up. “And I can see why you and Heehyun will get along just fine.”

They busy themselves with their food when it arrives; Sejeong leaves the chatting and banter to Somi and Heehyun for the most part, allowing them to get more acquainted with one another. They get along well, of course. It doesn’t come as a surprise to Sejeong, especially not after her realization that the two had a lot, or at least enough, in common. _They’re both talkative, that’s for sure_. They finish their food and Sejeong sets the negotiation (of sorts) in motion.

“Ah, the elephant in the room,” Heehyun says. “Well, fire away.”

Sejeong leans forward in her seat. “For starters, I need you to tell me more about this thing. What do you need me for? _Why_ do you need me?”

Heehyun nods. “Like I said before, my boss doesn’t take no for an answer. I swear she hates the word ‘no’. She’s a go-getter, that one. In this instance, though, I think it’s pretty reasonable. Her persistence just makes it evident how important this operation is, and if she’s actually been forced into turning to _outsiders_ such as yourself to get the job — _our_ job, of course referring to us agents — done, then it’s a pretty damn important thing. She’s probably being pressured by the higher-ups to get this shit done with already _or else_.”

“Okay, I get that. But what exactly is this thing you need me so badly to do?”

“Hm. What was that thing Nayoung — that’s her name: Nayoung. Jesus, the Nayoung’s just can’t get enough of you, can they? — said?” She clears her throat and imitates Nayoung (Im). Gravely, she says, “‘We need the best one to pull off what could possibly be one of the biggest heists in history’.”

Both Sejeong and Somi raise their brows at Heehyun. That got their attention, alright. “A heist?” Sejeong asks. “You went all the way here to talk me into doing a _heist_?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? You’re good at it, I must begrudgingly admit.”

“While I appreciate your compliment, I still don’t get why you have to ask _me_ to do it.”

“We’ve exhausted all of our resources, exhausted — in both sense of the word — our agents. At least that’s what Nayoung told me anyway. So she gets this _brilliant_ idea to send me here to try to convince you to help us. Why she thinks this is the best option we have is beyond my reasoning and logic.”

“You do know there are other options if you just wanted a thief to do a thief’s job.”

Heehyun smiles. “It’s funny because those were her exact words: ‘we need a thief to do a thief’s job’. You’re on the right track already. She’s just going to _love_ you.”

Sejeong shifts in her seat. Somi remains silent. “I haven’t given you an answer yet, so don’t get too ahead of yourself. And what I say still stands: you have other options if you just needed a thief.”

Heehyun sighs. “Yes, we know that. The only problem here is that Nayoung doesn’t want just _anyone_ , she wants _you_. For obvious reasons.”

“For obvious reasons like how my being friends with you makes it easier to put a leash on me, for example.”

Heehyun considers that. “Fair point. That, and you’re one of the best at what you do and you’re relatively more trustworthy than just some other chap we could probably pick off the streets.”

“But what makes you think I won’t double-cross you and keep whatever I find to myself?”

“You won’t.”

“How sure are you of that?”

“Fairly positive.”

“You really have that much faith in me?”

“You’re my best friend and I’ve known you all my life, so of course I do. And besides, if you’re gonna be up to no good, I’m gonna be there to stop you or maybe even back you up if I see fit.”

Sejeong cocks her chin. “What’s the object worth stealing?”

Heehyun purses her lips. “ _That_ I don’t know. Not yet anyway. Nayoung wouldn’t tell me, but she says it’s something really important and I’m guessing it may or may not have the capability to end the world or whatever. You know how it goes.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking me to steal.” Sejeong states this more as a fact than as a question.

“At least I can be honest with you about it, right?”

Sejeong rolls her eyes. She throws a quick glance at Somi from the corner of her eye before focusing back on Heehyun.

“If you’re still worried about what you get in return, fret not and just trust me when I say that you _do_ get something in return. I personally made sure that you would. And other than that, my offer still stands, you know. It’s not a bad option after all of this — the situation being you agreed and helped us out, of course.”

Sejeong taps her fingers twice on the table.

“You don’t have to worry about your mother, either. I’ve taken it upon myself to help her out and watch over her, though I supposed you’ve always known that.”

“Yes, I have.”

“So is it a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?” Heehyun asks. The pack of cigarettes lie right beside her hand, for easy access, and she’s itching to get another one.

Sejeong asks, “If I help you, will that get everyone off my back? Get all the cases cleared and get rid of that godforsaken task force these people made just to catch me?”

“That’s a tricky one, but I’ve managed to convince Nayoung to convince the higher-ups of it.” Then, Heehyun groans. “But please — for the love of Jesus, Joseph and Mary — _please_ don’t take that as some sort of free pass to carry on with your shenanigans because it’ll just look bad on me if it looks like I gave you a clean slate to do worse things with.”

Sejeong nods. She tears her eyes away from Heehyun to look directly at Somi when she says, “Well, you’re gonna have to extend that and all other benefits to Somi, too.”

Heehyun narrows her eyes. “I mean, sure. I guess we can make sure that the records on her, if any, are wiped clean.”

Still not looking at Heehyun, Sejeong replies, “I meant you’re really going to have to do that because she’s not letting me do this alone. She wants in.”

Heehyun makes a face at the both of them, who bite back their grins. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“She’s not gonna let go of this one,” Sejeong replies with a shrug. “I didn’t want to give you an answer without discussing all of this with her, and she’s been pretty firm on her decision to tag along.”

“‘ _Tag long’?_ ” Heehyun repeats in disbelief. “You make it sound like this is just some skiing trip to the Alps!”

“That’s how it’ll feel like if you have _both_ of us working on this,” Somi pitches, a bright smile on her face. “Easy and breezy. We work really well together, and as the saying goes, two heads are better than one.”

“You two are just _perfect_ together,” Heehyun murmurs, meaning to be sarcastic but it has the opposite effect because both Sejeong and Somi have childish glee in their eyes. “I did _not_ mean that as a compliment!”

“You already said it, so no taking back now,” Sejeong teases. “Besides, we come as a package deal.”

Somi nods. “If she’s gonna do something extremely stupid that could possibly put her six feet under the ground, I should at least be there to stop her from getting to that point in the first place. That and I don’t want her flirting with anyone else, so I need to keep a close eye on her.”

Sejeong frowns. “Hey, I’m not a flirt!”

“Not intentionally,” Somi says. “That’s what you always say, anyway.”

“We’ve gone over this!” Sejeong whines.

Heehyun grumbles something under her breath. “Look, I’m not the one that you’ve got to convince of this. It’s Nayoung, and she was pretty specific when she told me to get Sejeong and Sejeong only. She might not be too pleased to see me come back with another mouth to feed or something.”

“Her diet consist of gummy bears, mostly, so you’ll be fine,” Sejeong replies. Somi smacks her in the arm with a _hey!_ “But like I said, we’re a package deal now and nothing you say can convince Somi to back out anyway.”

Heehyun presses her lips into a thin line then throws her hands up in defeat. “Fine. Okay.”

“Another thing —”

“Oh God, what is it _now_?”

“We do things _my_ way. I take full control as long as the heist is concerned.”

Heehyun is about to argue against that when she realizes — “Wait, so you’re actually...is that a ‘yes’?”

“Obviously,” Sejeong says. “Why else would I be telling you all these terms and conditions if I wasn’t going to do it anyway?”

“Hey, in my defense, this is the first time you’ve ever said yes to these kinds of things, especially with me offering.”

“Well, this is it. I’m saying yes, but only if _you_ say yes to my conditions.”

Somi interjects, “Wait, don’t I get to throw in one request here?”

Sejeong and Heehyun look at Somi. “What request do you have?” they ask simultaneously.

“Gummy bears,” Somi answers. “There’s got to be a constant supply of gummy bears.”

“Told you her diet consisted mostly of gummy bears,” Sejeong mumbles to Heehyun, who laughs despite herself.

“Okay, you’ve got a deal,” Heehyun tells them both. “I’ll see what I can do about those gummy bears, too. Still, Nayoung’s got the final say in this so you’re going to have to run all of this through her.”

“Then I’ll talk to her,” Sejeong says nonchalantly. “Dessert?”

Before Heehyun can say anything, Somi’s already tearing through the list of cakes and other sweets. She orders at least half of it, much to the chagrin of her two companions.

  


-

  


Sejeong sits down on the floor and lays out everything in front of her: an envelope, a pen, a few pieces of paper and finally, her collection of photographs that she and Somi have taken. She sifts through the photos, setting aside some. A smile tugs on her lips when she sees the picture of a sleeping Somi, the one she had taken that time they were driving back from the beach and the younger girl had fallen fast asleep. She decides to include this one, too. When she’s done picking out the photographs, she takes the pen in one hand and the photographs in another.

The process is methodical and moves from one photograph to another like a conveyor belt, scribbling notes at the back of each one. She writes quick descriptions of the moments that were captured, keep them concise enough. The last photograph is the one of Somi and she spends more time pondering on what to write for this one; she settles on something eventually, figuring that what she writes should suffice. She places them inside the envelope when she’s done.

It takes her three pieces of paper and over a dozen crossed out scribbles before she finally manages to pen something decent. It isn’t very long, but she supposes it should be enough. (In reality, it’s all she can muster to say. In reality, there’s far too much to be said and not enough words.) She neatly folds the paper and places that inside the envelope, too.

Sejeong seals the envelope and holds it in her hands. She stares at it. She’s starting to have second thoughts about everything when there someone knocks on the door. Sejeong knows for a fact that it isn’t Somi, obviously, because Somi would just swing the door open and walk right in. Also, she and Heehyun had left just a little over a half hour ago (Heehyun had taken the opportunity to bond with Somi the days after their lunch together and Sejeong didn’t know if Somi liking Heehyun was a bad thing or not) and they always took their time. She gets up, letter still in hand, and walks to the door. When she opens it, she’s greeted by no one she’s ever seen before. No, make that two people. She cranes her neck to look up at the woman standing right in front of her.

Somi is tall, but this woman is much taller. Probably in her early thirties, with steely eyes and an imposing aura. They stay locked in a stare-down, sizing each other up. Finally, Sejeong says, “Come on in.”

The woman gives her a small nod and walks in, followed closely by her companion. She’s shorter and her hair is dyed a deep burgundy, everything about her features sharp and delicate all at once. She carries a briefcase in hand. They move to the balcony and Sejeong follows.

Silence, again. Studious gazes, again. Then the woman asks, “Do you know who I am?”

 _Hello to you, too_. “No, but I’ve got an idea about it.”

The woman nods. “My name is Im Nayoung. Your friend, Heehyun, works for me.” She motions to her companion. “This is Hana, one of our best agents.”

Sejeong raises a brow. “‘Hana’, like ‘one’. That’s very indicative.” Hana smiles a small smile. She turns back to Nayoung. “I honestly wasn’t expecting you to fly over here just like that.”

“I wanted to speak to you personally.”

“I’m flattered you went through all this trouble just to speak to me. Warms my poor ol’ heart.”

Nayoung’s expression remains even. “What has Heehyun told you about all this?”

“Nothing much,” Sejeong answers. “Just that it’s something really important.”

“That’s all she said?”

“That, and about the _perks_ I get in return.”

Nayoung nods. “We’re ready to give you _… options_ , if you catch my drift.”

“Yes, I suppose I do. But I have conditions of my own; if I’m going to be working with your leash around my neck, I want some form of control over certain things.”

“Understandable. What might these conditions be?”

Sejeong repeats everything she had told Heehyun, explaining when explanations were called for, and Nayoung listens intently. She had expected Nayoung to look surprised or make a comment about Somi’s insistence to be part of it, but she doesn’t. Not even Hana says anything, mirroring her superior’s demeanor.

“Done,” Nayoung says. “But let me ask you one question.”

Sejeong’s shoulders rise and fall in small shrug. “Go ahead.”

“Heehyun’s told me all about how stubborn you can be, as well as about how you’ve refused anything and everything she’s offered you in the past: an option, a way out of this and, frankly, out a landing yourself in prison. So why say yes now? What’s changed?”

Sejeong doesn’t answer. Nayoung doesn’t press any further; to Hana, she says, “The files, please.” Hana pulls out a folder from the briefcase and hands it to Nayoung, who then hands it to Sejeong. “That’s got everything you need to know about this operation and why it’s so important.”

Sejeong scoffs. “You aren’t even going to tell me yourself?”

“I’m sure you can discern all this information yourself, and like I said, that has everything you need to know. I agreed to give your the reins as long as the heist is concerned, but you still have to report to me whatever you decide to do.”

Sejeong almost rolls her eyes but she stops herself. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Heehyun will personally attend to you and you’ll have our resources at your disposal. Did I miss anything, Hana?”

Hana shakes her head. “That’s pretty much it.”

Nayoung says, “Let’s leave it at this for now, Ms. Kim. We’ll be seeing more of each other in the future.”

“Fun,” Sejeong mumbles sarcastically. She flips the folder open, scans its contents and just as Nayoung turns on her heel to leave, she says, “About your question…”

Nayoung turns her head to look at Sejeong. “What about it?”

“You asked me what changed, why I said yes.” She examines a few photos in the folder before she shuts it close. “I didn’t say yes for Heehyun, though she does play a part in my decision.”

Nayoung urges her on with her silence.

“I didn’t say yes because I want to prance around with the whole lot of you, the thing Heehyun wants me to do. I said yes because I get to have a clean slate — I hope, anyway — or at least some sort of way out of all of this, out of everything. I don’t need it so much for myself as I do for someone else. Someone who’s re-taught me everything I thought I’d forgotten and I really do hate it when Heehyun manages to knock some sense into me, but she was right when she said we can’t keep up this daydream or fantasy of ours forever, especially with all the consequences I’ve got to face.”

Nayoung tilts her head to the side. “It’s that girl, isn’t it? Somi?”

Sejeong gives her a small nod. She doesn’t add more to that because she supposes Nayoung already understands, supposes that she understands that you can’t spend forever with the girl you love if you’re both running away and with the knowledge that your fall is inevitable. That’s just the law of the universe: what comes up must always come down. The mighty rise and the mighty fall. There are no exceptions to the rules, and what good is a thief against the will of the universe? There is one thing, though: “If this is going to be my last hurrah, I’m making sure it’s going to be _fantastic_.”

Nayoung’s lips curl into a smile, but it disappears just as quickly as it appears. She says “I’ll be seeing you again soon, Ms. Kim” and turns her back to Sejeong. Hana follows behind like her shadow, throwing a curt nod at Sejeong’s way. The door shuts with a click and Sejeong is left again in silence.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(A letter. She opens the letter that Soyul brought with her after Soyul leaves — she’d insisted that the young woman stay for supper; the poor thing must have been tired having just hopped off a plane from a very long flight — and she takes out the contents. One of the photographs falls to the floor and she bends down to pick it up. It’s a photograph of a girl, no one she’s ever seen but she’s very pretty, with a jacket pulled around her shoulders and torso like a blanket; she’s fast asleep at the passenger seat of the car, the sky in the background a deep red and purple hue. Sunset. She flips the photograph over and finds a message at the back: _This is Somi. You’d like her. I hope you get to meet her soon._

She goes through the other photographs before she reads the letter. Her eyes go over the words ( _I’ve gone to a lot of places, but I like it here best, where the sun always shines — or maybe it just feels that way because I’m with Somi_ ) and she clutches the letter to her chest when she finishes reading it.

 _I’ll be home soon_.)

**Author's Note:**

> additional notes:
> 
> • this fic was largely inspired by [purple noon](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purple_Noon), [the man from u.n.c.l.e.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Man_from_U.N.C.L.E._\(film\)), [rififi](https://www.google.com.ph/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjw0OGHoKzYAhXCupQKHXeEB6cQFggoMAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FRififi&usg=AOvVaw3pM0mPwpx7wD2UF0KPBMxw), [cinema paradiso](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cinema_Paradiso) to an extent, and my love for wes anderson's films + cinematic style.   
>  • a friend told me that this reminded her a lot of the man from u.n.c.l.e and it isn't far off since, like i said, that film was one of the inspirations for this fic and i actually based sejeong a lot on napoleon solo and some of his background. another character i based her off of was tom ridley (played by the godly alain delon) from purple noon, at least in terms of skills anyway.    
>  • there's a scene in the earlier part of the fic that serves as a nod to and is taken right out of rififi. this scene would be the one where somi's staring at sejeong like that again and tells her she's pretty. smooth. in the film, there's a 30 minute long heist scene that's shot in near complete silence, which just added to the suspense and thrill of the heist.    
>  • [this is the fountain scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPz0EoRA0Vw) that they replicated in the fic, from the film [la dolce vita](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Dolce_Vita).   
>  • i have no idea about the actual age difference between sejeong and her brother, whether or not she's the older sibling or not, but for the fic i made her the older sibling, with an age difference of 2 years.
> 
> originally titled '75 PAGE BITCH OF MY HEART.docx'. honestly if this thing had a soundtrack it would just be honne's entire discography.
> 
> comments and kudos are lovely and greatly appreciated!


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